The Light Warrior Files: Beginnings
by Synch
Summary: Lucius Kemp, a man with unique gifts, is faced with the fact that he is not alone. He will also discover that the fates have woven a destiny for him that is far different than the one he would have chosen.
1. Chapter 1: Part 1

**Part 1: Wake Up Call**

The alarm was what started to wake me up. What finished the job was the gradual realization that I had nothing planned for the day, so I hadn't set the alarm. I looked over from my position on the bed, and immediately regretted it. 4:30 in the morning.

"Uhhnn… you gonna get that, baby?" A heavily accented, extremely sexy yet tired, voice uttered this from my left. I looked that way with a slight smile.

"Yeah, got it." I tried to roll out of bed, only to find my leg was still trapped in a scissor lock with her legs, and her arm was still across my chest. "Can I have my leg back, Marita?" After she shifted position enough for me to move, I rolled out of bed and stumbled across the room to the phone.

"Whoever this is has about ten seconds to convince me it's important. Otherwise I will kill you." Maybe not the best way to start a phone conversation, but nobody calls me that early and gets away with it.

"Is this Mr. Lucius Kemp?" The voice was masculine, and such a deep bass that I almost felt it more than heard it. For no reason I could actually understand, I assumed the caller was black. At least he pronounced my name correctly.

"Yeah, that's me. You have about five seconds left."

"Not over the phone. Too many ears listening. Meet me outside your place in an hour." Now what the hell could he possibly mean by that? 'Too many ears listening?' And I thought I had the corner on paranoia.

"Why in the world would I do that?"

"Information on the eyes and the ears all around you. Trust me, it's important." Damn. I was finally awake, and now my curiosity was getting the best of me.

"Fine, I'll be there. How will I know who I'm looking for?"

"Don't worry, I'll know you." With that rather ominous statement, my unidentified caller disconnected.

After putting the coffee on, I took a quick shower and shaved. All the while I was recalling what had been said about the eyes and ears surrounding me. After the shower, I poured a cup and resumed thinking, glancing at the clock to realize I still had 45 minutes of that hour left.

Some people get thrown a genetic curve ball. Many illnesses have a genetic factor, among as other issues. In my case, the genetic twist didn't manifest physically, but in a different manner. Physically, aside from my eyes, which are grey with green rims, I am plain vanilla. However, I have been gifted, or cursed if you want to look at it that way, with a unique ability. I am able to mentally manipulate light.

One of the many side effects of this ability is that, with just a couple minutes to prepare myself, I can quite literally see the world differently than anyone else. I do this by shifting my vision into the so-called "invisible" light spectrum, allowing me to see in the ultraviolet and infrared ranges.

Closing my eyes, I made the shift into the infrared. Although this wasn't likely to help me find any microphones, there was at least a chance I would see something from the cameras. Quietly walking through the loft I found four. It looked like they were positioned to give the best possible range throughout the apartment. Well, except that one aimed at the bed. Someone got a free show last night.

Closing my eyes again, I allowed myself to shift back to normal vision. Walking back to the bathroom, I swallowed a couple migraine pills. Humans aren't meant to see into those ranges, and forcing myself to do so always leaves me with a killer migraine.

Anyway, there was no need to shift to the ultraviolet, as I had my answer. Somebody had their eyes and, probably, ears on me. My immediate instinct was to beam all the cameras, but I stopped myself just before doing so. First of all, I wasn't certain that those four were the only cameras, or even the only devices, installed. It was conceivable that there were other devices I had not located which would see me doing just that. More importantly, whoever had planted those cameras in the first place had already proven themselves capable of entering my loft, completely unobserved, and installing them. If I destroyed the ones I found, which were only found because of my caller, replacing them would be all too easy. I wasn't overly happy about that fact, but there it was.


	2. Chapter 1: Part 2

**Part 2: The Organization Is Hunting**

Looking at the clock, I realized I only had about ten minutes left until I had to be out front. I left a note for Marita, letting her know I would be meeting a client for an emergency meeting that could take several hours and put on another pot of coffee. That done, I headed out front for my meeting. Almost immediately, I heard that voice coming from behind me. "Mr. Kemp?"

Turning around, I learned that I was right about one thing- he was black. He was also the single largest human I had ever encountered. He had to be at least 7 feet tall, and from the looks of it weighed in at nearly 250 pounds, none of it fat. He was well groomed, and wore an expensive grey suit.

"Yeah, that's me. Sorry, but I don't believe I caught your name?" I extended my hand, hoping he'd take the opportunity to introduce himself.

He took my hand, and pumped it twice. I found myself pleased that he was modulating his strength. From the feel of that shake, he could squeeze coal with the reasonable expectation of creating a diamond. "Call me Ishmael."

Seeing my surprise, as well as my disbelief, he laughed. "So you've read it. Before you ask, that really is my name. Now, let's walk for a while."

"Fine, but I usually do business in a restaurant down the street here."

"I know. Unfortunately, so do they. And this isn't business, it's personal. At least, it's mostly personal."

"Great. Wonderful. Who are 'they?' Come to think of it, who are you?"

"Later, when I'm certain we're alone." That, of course, is a major problem in a city the size of New York. You're almost never alone, no matter what the time.

Half an hour later, after more apparently random turns than I could keep track of, and a conversation that randomly covered everything from baseball scores to foreign policy, we arrived both in Central Park and at the point virtually simultaneously.

"Right then; you wanted to know who planted the bugs at your place."

"How the bloody hell did you know I'd been bugged?"

"First off, they've wired all of us. At least, they've gotten to all the ones they have reason to suspect. More importantly, you just told me."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"It means that you didn't deny the existence of the bugs, which means you spotted them somehow. Tell me, did you remove or disable them at all?"

"No. I spotted some of them shortly after you woke me up, but decided to wait until later before destroying them. I assume there were microphones as well, although I couldn't locate them.'

"You're right about that. Good. They don't know that you know that they're watching then." _Confused much?_ "Before you head back, assuming you decide to work with us, we'll hook you up with some gear to baffle the snoops.'

"Fantastic. Mind telling who planted the damned things and why the bloody hell I'd want to hook up with you- whoever the hell you are?"

"'They' are a secret Organization. So secret that they do not even have a name. Although they seem to have contacts and sources within every government in the world, and nearly all the governmental agencies around the world as well, they exist outside of those governments. My friends and I are not, to this point, entirely certain why, but the Organization seems to be focusing primarily on abducting and studying individuals like us."

I interrupted before he could move on. "What do you mean when you say 'people like us'?"

"What do you think I mean? Special people. People who, for lack of a better way to describe it, have been giving unique gifts by a random roll of the genetic dice. Are you familiar with Mr. Linderman?"

A little perplexed at the sudden shift of target, I could only blink for a couple seconds. "Linderman? Umm… last I heard he was some sort of money guy. He runs a financial backing firm. I've heard he has a controlling interest in a couple casinos down in Vegas as well. The rumor mill has hinted at ties to organized crime, and also indicates that he own several politicians and is buying candidates. What does this have to do with anything?"

"Everything. Linderman is the money, and the brains, behind the Organization I was talking about. We're not entirely certain what it is he wants, but he's the one who ultimately gives the orders."

Although I wasn't altogether certain I believed him, I did notice his careful avoidance of the second part of my question. "So, for some unknown reason, this alleged Organization, supposedly backed by Linderman, is interested in studying what you term special people. Big deal. Why's my loft more wired than a Christmas tree?"

He looked at me with surprise, almost as if he couldn't believe I hadn't figured it out on my own. Maybe he couldn't. "Isn't it obvious? They know."

"Oh, joy. What do they know and how did they learn it?"

"They know about you. They either know that you have manifested an ability, in which case it is only a matter of time before they grab you, or they know that there is the potential for you to manifest an ability.

"As for the how, that's a little trickier. The truth is that we're not entirely certain. Some of us they've found through blind luck. We used our gift somewhere, and one of their people happened to be in the same area. Some of us they located through research.

"The devices they left in your loft are not standard recording devices. They've been specially designed to record a wide range of abnormal behavior."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"Meaning they're designed to look for temperature fluctuations, respiratory alterations. If your eyes change color, one of the devices in your loft will record it. Here we are."

By "here" he meant a car, which appeared to have started life as a taxi, in the parking area on the far side of the park. It was only then that I realized we had walked through the entire park in the course of our discussion. He gestured to the passenger door and said, "Hop in."

"Do you honestly believe that I'm going to get in that car with you?"

Caught in the act of climbing in the driver's side, he paused and looked directly at me. "I guess that depends, doesn't it."

"On what?"

"On whether or not you want answers. Whether or not you wish to get rid of the devices in your loft. Whether or not you want to remain free. Most of all, it depends on whether you have actual cause to distrust me."

That last comment was what got me. Although I'm not a very trusting person, and I had found very little reason to trust him, I had far less reason not to. Added to that was a certain level of security. If something happened, and it turned out that Ishmael was up to something, I could be fairly certain he wouldn't live long enough to regret it. I was even more certain that, if the worst happened, I would be able to escape. After all, my ability allowed me to render myself invisible, and you can't hit what you can't see.

"Fine, I'm coming. How long will this take?"

"The drive won't take long at all. What happens after that could take hours."


	3. Chapter 1: Part 3

**Part 3: First Meetings**

At least he wasn't kidding about the drive. Less than ten minutes later, we pulled into a parking garage and entered the apartment complex through the corridor. After taking the elevator to the third floor, we climbed to the eighth. When we finally stopped, he rapped three times on the door.

As it opened, he waved me inside. The main room of the apartment appeared spacious and uncluttered, but also quite dark. Not quite pitch black, but more like that time of day when you realize that you should start turning on lights. As my ability automatically compensated, I looked around. There was little to see.

In the kitchen are there were all the normal items, as well as another small table. Although I could tell it was made of wood, little else was visible as it was completely covered with what appeared to be nearly every item to be found in a Radio Shack.

The living area was just off the kitchen. It had a couple comfortable reclining chairs, as well as a large sofa. A decent sized entertainment center was along the wall opposite the sofa, with a larger table than the one in the kitchen beside it.

"Have you brought him?" This voice, dry and husky, emanated from the farthest end of the sofa, in the darkest corner of the room. Peering into the shadows, I saw what appeared to be one of the most singularly beautiful women I had yet encountered.

"Yes, this is the one, Lady." I wasn't entirely certain what he meant by that.

"Good, does he know?"

"Not as yet, Lady. At least, not in full. I thought it best to bring him in first. He's already being researched."

"That's my job." This new voice caused me to whirl around. It came from behind the mound of electronics. As the speaker emerged, I found the voice to be a perfect match to the man. Mousey, jittery and hyper, the boy could have been anywhere between fifteen and eighteen.

With a slight grin, Ishmael said, "Not just yet, Builder. Give him a chance to meet the Dark Lady and learn why he is here."

Although I tried, I was unable to conceal a snort of laughter. "Builder?"

With a grin, he turned to me and rumbled, "You'll get used to it, if you elect to join us. Names, aside from mine, are not used here. Instead, we use the terms given by the Dark Lady."

"The 'Dark Lady'?"

"Come into the room." Following him into the living area, I found myself in front of the woman I had seen shortly after entering the apartment. No, standing directly in front of her as I was, I was forced to amend my earlier impression. This was not merely _one_ of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, she was the most singularly gorgeous woman I had ever encountered. Everything about her was perfectly flawless. Although the plain, dark blue dress she was wearing was not intended to reveal anything, it was unable to conceal the type of womanly body most men dream of. Her face contained that feminine perfection for which wars are fought. Her skin, although of a shade lighter than Ishmael's, was flawless ebony. Her lustrous, waist long hair was such a raven black that it reflected a blue hue in what little light there was.

All of this I noted in the first few seconds I stood in front of her. Ultimately, I made the mistake of looking directly into her eyes. Due to a trait that I had not encountered among those of African descent, at any point to that day or beyond, her eyes were a shining emerald in color, as perfect as the rest of her. What held me spellbound, however, was not their coloration. Instead, I was captured by that eerie certainty I saw. It was the certainty of one who has stared into the face of destiny, and has accepted her role without reservation, casting herself completely into the crucible of fate.

As she held my gaze, I detected a searching, a subtle sifting. Without knowing precisely how I knew this, I suddenly became aware that all my secrets were laid bare before this perfect woman. Perhaps most astonishingly, I found myself uncaring that this Dark Lady had invaded my mind in this way.

"Yes. There is pride. Pride in who you are and what you have done. There is love there also. Love of life and living, yes, but also what looks to be the beginnings of love for a woman. Hold those emotions, nourish them. There is greater strength to be found there than anywhere else.

"There is also much pain. Bitterness, hatred, rage; black and hot lay these emotions, boiling within and barely controlled. There is much about your past which ever fuels these feelings. Scars on your heart to match those on your flesh. Open wounds still within your soul. Great wrong done to you by those who should have loved you. Greater wrong still by those who should have seen and intervened.

"I will not say let go your pain, for it is our pain which defines us and motivates us. Remember, though, never to give in to the pain. Do not allow these dark emotions to control you. Although they are a source of strength, and a source of your greatest motivation, they will destroy you utterly." That tender voice, husky and dry as I had noticed, but with the slightest trace of an unidentifiable accent, comforted and consoled me as she continued to gently search my memories. Only then did I realize that I had fallen to my knees, though I still found myself locked in her stare. Her hands, warm and tender, lightly clasped each cheek.


	4. Chapter 1: Part 4

**Part 4: Questions & Answers**

Releasing me, physically as well as mentally and emotionally, she said, "You have questions. Ask them, and we will answer as best we can." As she reclined in her chair, I realized that, for the first time in many years, I had been crying. Not merely crying, but weeping as a brokenhearted child. At a subtle signal from the Lady, Ishmael helped me to the sofa, as the one called Builder brought me a glass of water.

After a few minutes of silence, I asked my most pressing question, the one which Ishmael had yet to answer, "Who are you people?"

From his position beside the Dark Lady, Ishmael rumbled out an explanation. "We are, even as you are yourself, uniquely gifted. The great genetic lottery threw something a little extra our way. My gift is Interpretation. I can take anything, whether seen or heard, and translate it into any language necessary. Not only is this gift a benefit as far as languages are concerned, but it has made me a master code breaker, since my gift does not distinguish between foreign languages and code.

"Builder, here, is something of a wizard with electronics. He can create any gadget he desires from the simplest of components. He can also make any existing electronic equipment do pretty much whatever he wants, and can create the new equipment in mere moments.

"The Dark Lady is a Reader. She is uniquely gifted in that her ability works in two separate ways. She can read minds, thoughts, emotions and memories like an open book. However, she can also read the future, the pages of destiny."

Somehow, I had already suspected the next information. "My ability is, coincidentally, the perfect complement to my wife's. When she reads the future, she does not speak of it in what you or I would consider normal terms. I think it best if she explains it for you." This last was said with a wry grin.

Taking the cue, she began, "When I gaze into the future, and attempt to read that which fate has written, fluid and unstable though it is, I do not see the names and terms which we, time bound creatures that we are, use. Instead, I read the truth of beings and of events.

"I am the Dark Lady. I am the oracle of our age. I am the reader of the future and mouthpiece for the fates. I see man's mind and destiny with equal facility. The truths I see are dark and foreboding as often, if not more so, as they are bright and joyful, for man's destiny is always filled with strife." This last was said with a harshness that I would learn was only present when the Lady was making her prophetic announcements.

"In each age there have been those with gifts similar to mine, which allowed them to see what was yet to come. Among some peoples they were prophets; among others they were called oracles. Still other peoples called them soothsayers. Regardless the names given them, their purpose was the same. They came into existence, as if by some divine plan, in times of turmoil and tumultuous change. They stood at the front of history, and told their peoples what was to come. At times they told what needed done to prevent great tragedy from occurring. Such is my role in this age, and that of the others who are springing into existence."

Not entirely certain what to make of that odd pronouncement, I decided to ask my next question. "All right, you've told me who you are, sort of. Since you are the ones who contacted me, I can only assume you know who I am. I guess what I find so confusing is what your little group is actually doing, and why you want me to join."

As I came to know them better, I learned that Builder was actually quite intelligent, certainly more so than myself in certain areas. However, he was also extremely uncomfortable around strangers, which led to him being so quiet that it became quite easy to forget that he was around. Such was the case now. When he spoke from beside me, I jumped in my seat.

"Can I show him?" When Ishmael quietly chuckled, and the Lady, also smiling, nodded, he ran out to the pile on the table. After rummaging around for a couple minutes, he returned, carefully carrying something that resembled a High Inquisitor's happy dream. As he sat it down in front of me and began to untangle all the wires and components, I was able to identify some of the parts. There was what looked to be an old aviator's helmet At least, that was what it had started out as. However, it had undergone extensive modification since then. There were wires exploding out from every conceivable port. The goggles from the old helmet had been replaced, but I couldn't quite decide what with. The headset had been replaced with an indefinable, but extremely uncomfortable looking, device. The entire contraption was connected by wires to what seemed to have started out life as the tower unit for a personal computer, which was also connected to a laptop computer. The former tower unit was open along one side, with wires connected seemingly at random to more circuit boards than I had ever seen in one place before.

"Do I even want to know about this?"

Catching the worry in my voice, he laughed. "Don't worry, it's perfectly safe." As he explained what the machine was going to do, he was also rapidly connecting it to me. "In the absolutely plainest terms, this is a virtual reality set. I designed it myself. These goggles are actually miniature projectors, and will project the image directly onto your retina, giving you better image than standard players or even heads up displays. The ear pieces, here, might be a bit uncomfortable, but that can't be helped. I've designed them so that the speakers are closer to the eardrums. This helps you get better sound, and you can hear it clearly at a much lower volume than is normally the case. I'll actually slip them in at the last minute, because their design blocks out virtually all other sound."

Unfortunately, I could no longer see anything, so I had to look in the general direction the sound was coming from, "And what, exactly, am I supposed to be seeing and hearing?"

The answer came not from Builder, but from Ishmael, "The Dark Lady made a prophecy several weeks ago. We've made a practice of recording them so I can listen and interpret, even if I'm not home at the time. In this case, Builder saw a chance to do more than just interpret the prophecy; he wanted a chance to actually see what it meant. You'll be hearing the Dark Lady's prophecy, and you'll be seeing Builder's simulation of the events."


	5. Chapter 1: Part 5

**Part 5: The Prophecy**

After that last comment, Builder slipped the earpieces into place, and left me completely deaf and blind.

The blindness faded first. I found myself flying over New York City. As I flew over a single skyscraper, I quite suddenly crashed down through the roof.

The voice of the Dark Lady cut in, speaking in the harshly rolling, oratorical cadence I remembered from her proclamation of her identity and_ raison __d'etre_. "The plans of the Games Master are set. His pieces are assembled and in motion." During this, I was thrown down through the floors until I came face to face with a man I recognized as Mr. Linderman. He was laughing as he stared out the window, over my shoulder.

Suddenly I was spun about and given a glimpse of what he was looking at. "The Brother of Flight seeks that which is beyond him. Yet, the Games Master will ensure it is obtained." I watched as a Congressional candidate Nathan Petrelli flew across the skyline, struggling against something I could not see, in an attempt to reach a building in the distance. I glanced down and saw a graph splashed across the buildings below him. It appeared to contain polling data, and clearly showed him losing. I looked again, and realized that the building Petrelli was struggling so hard to reach was the House of Representatives. At that moment, the laughter from Mr. Linderman doubled in intensity. As if that were a signal, the numbers began to change. The change began with agonizing slowness, but rapidly gained in momentum until the numbers were a blur. As the change progressed, the flying grew easier for Petrelli, and the House grew closer. By the time the numbers stopped changing, he had clearly won the election. He alighted on the front steps of the House and, straightening his tie, walked inside.

The scene went black and then focused in on a pair of shadowy, menacing specters. Although one was much larger than the other, it was the smaller figure that was in motion. "Sufficient unto the day is the Evil thereof. There are two evils abroad in the world; the Greater Evil and the Lesser Evil. However, the Lesser Evil is the only one who has taken or will yet take a hand in the events that are in motion."

I watched as the smaller figure approached a young man. Unaware of his presence, the man reached out a hand and brought a coffee cup, from across the scene, toward him. "The Lesser Evil is in search of the Variants. He seeks that which makes them different, and he desires to take it. In taking it, he desires to make it his own." I watched in horror as the dark figure swelled to unimaginable size and loomed over the young man. As a wave crashes onto the beach, the figure fell over the man. When he moved again, I could barely make out the body of the man, laying dead. The figure raised one menacing hand, and the cup arose from beside the deceased. With a convulsive clenching, the figure closed his hand and the cup shattered. As he stalked away, I once again took a flight over the city.

I landed near the fountain in Kirby Plaza. "In the belly of the Sleepless Giant lies the Fountain of the Winding Stair. It is here that the Brother of Power shall come face to face with the Lesser Evil." I watched as a young gentleman, whom I vaguely recognized from a press conference as Nathan's younger brother Peter, walked in from my left. I was briefly distracted by a fluttering paper on the ground which declared "Petrelli Wins." When I looked again, Peter was most of the way to the fountain, and then he stopped. He was staring at a dark figure which entered from the opposite side. As they stood, framing the sculpture in the fountain, the scene exploded out to a wide shot of New York City.

The Dark Lady's voice had been the same throughout, but it suddenly took on a stricken tone, as if she had glimpsed a tragedy she could barely handle. "From the Fountain of the Winding Stair there shall come a flame bearing with it death and destruction. An explosion such as has not been seen in the world of men. And it shall decimate the Sleeping Giant, this fire from its belly. Of its body, much shall be destroyed. Of its life, the greater part will be extinguished."

In growing horror I watched as, while she was still saying this, the entire world went blindingly white. From the Plaza came a towering inferno. All sound, save that of the Lady, was lost as a deep bass note sounded, swallowed by the sound of an explosion. As the inferno continued to rise and expand, the mushroom cloud towered over the earth.

As the sound of the initial explosion faded, it was replaced by sounds which were no less intense. The shattering of glass and the sound of building collapsing as the pressure wave expanded combined with the roar of the expanding flames. After what felt like an eternity, but could only have been a matter of minutes, the explosive flames receded. As they did so, I was forced to keep pace. They left behind them a smoking, burning ruin. As I reached Ground Zero, what had once been Kirby Plaza, there was nothing left. What little had not been simply removed from the area by the force of the explosion was burned, melted and twisted until recognition was impossible. There were still a bare handful of buildings whose ribs remained standing. They were twisted reminders of the devastation, blackened fingers reaching for hope that had fled.

I found myself walking through the streets that had, until recently, been teeming with life. Now they were filled only with death. My ears were filled with the discordant cacophony of crackling flames, collapsing buildings, shrieking sirens and the shrill screams of the wounded and the dying.

As I moved along the streets, randomly weaving my way through the destruction, I was acutely aware of the ash flowing around me. Unfortunately, it did not blind me. I was able to see the bodies, as well as the refuse which had once been bodies, burned and torn, scattered around me.

Suddenly I stopped. In front of me lay all that remained of a young girl, maybe ten years old. Her head and part of her upper torso lay where they had been thrown by the explosion, and only God knew where she had died. Her skin was black and blistered, and her hair almost gone. Her sightless, lifeless, eyes stared accusingly at the sky. I fell to my knees and cradled her in my arms, weeping. Abruptly the scene went completely black, and all sound vanished.

Only when he began to remove the earpieces did I remember where I was. As he removed the helmet, I glared at Builder with tear filled eyes. My voice raw with emotion, the best I could manage was a hoarse whisper. "What… in… the… HELL… was… that?" To this day, I think that the only reason I didn't kill him was that I still saw that little girl in front of me.

Somehow, probably through the talents of his wife, Ishmael realized exactly what was happening. Rising from his seat, he laid a restraining hand on my shoulder, and spoke in a low voice. "What happened was not his fault. We have, all of us, looked at what you just saw. It affected all of us differently, but no less intensely than it did you. Give yourself a couple of minutes to recover, my friend." With that, he helped Builder gather the machine and take it back out to the table. When he returned, he was carrying a beer. Grinning when he saw my face, he commented, "After what you just went through, I thought you may need something stronger than water. I know I did."

Gratefully, I accepted it. As he crossed over to his seat, I realized he had also brought glasses of water out for himself and the Dark Lady. We sat in silence for several minutes as I regained control of my emotions. When I was finally able to speak and think coherently, I asked for an explanation.

The Lady shifted in her seat, leaning forward slightly. "I do not fully know what you saw, for certain events at the end shift depending on your actions. However, what I do know is you saw my prophecy made real. In the prophecy I spoke of the Games Master. That, as you saw, is Mr. Linderman. Far from being what he has worked so tirelessly to promote himself as, he is a cunning, vicious man. He will stop at nothing to accomplish those ends which he alone knows,

"I spoke of the Brother of Flight and the Brother of Power. Those are the Petrelli brothers. Nathan, the Brother of Flight, is gifted with the power of flight. His younger brother, Peter, is the Brother of Power. He has the potential of being the greatest of us all, for his is the gift of absorbing our abilities and making them his own. What he takes does in no way diminish those from whom he takes, but it increases him each time. For reasons which remain partly unclear, Linderman desires that Nathan be in power. Peter has his own role to play, but that role is as yet undefined.

"Of the two evils I spoke of, one has not yet made his move. The other has been given a name; Sylar. That name is known in limited circles, but it is known. He has his own part to play, as does Peter. The prophecy was unclear, but it would appear that one or the other of them will be the cause of the explosion."

I interrupted, incredulous at what was being suggested. "You're trying to tell me that the explosion will be the result of one man just randomly blowing up? That's not only impossible, it's completely crazy!"

Ishmael chuckled, "As impossible as a man who can manipulate light? As crazy as a woman who can read future? We live in a new world, my friend. The old rules no longer hold true, if they ever did."

Leaving me to think on that, the Dark Lady continued. "Kirby Plaza is the place where it will happen. I do not fully see, at this time, why it will happen, but that is the place. The explosion will destroy fully half of the city's people."


	6. Chapter 1: Part 6

**Part 6: The Joining **

"Let me get this completely straight. Mr. Linderman is not simply the shady owner of a group of enterprises, nor is he simply the mysterious crime lord some have portrayed him as. He is, in fact, the dark manipulator who, for reasons of his own, seeks to create an explosion in the heart of New York City? Why am I having a hard time with this?"

Ishmael looked at me in understanding, and the Dark Lady in sympathy. Rather surprisingly, given the reaction he had received when I first came out of his VR setup, it was Builder who provided the answer. "Why would it be that hard to understand? He's tried it before, and he very nearly succeeded!"

"He's tried this before? When?"

"Remember September the 11th? That was a Linderman plan as well."

I couldn't help it; I had to laugh at that. "Please tell me you're joking. You don't strike me as a conspiracy nut, and those are the only people I can see coming out with this stuff."

Ishmael leaned forward, silently quieting my scorn. "It's the truth. I know what you are going through, because it is much the same as the reaction I had when she told me it was going to happen."

"Wait a minute. She told you it was _going_ to happen? Don't you mean that she told you this _after_?"

Grinning somewhat ruefully, Ishmael held firm. "No. She told me, roughly 6 months prior, that it would happen. She specifically told me that there would be a terrorist attack and that the towers would fall. She also told me that Linderman was positioning a man to take full advantage of the event, which he was also orchestrating from far behind the scenes. The plan fell apart because his man was unable to win his party's nomination. Without his man in the White House, Linderman couldn't unite the country in the way he wanted. He also failed to take into account the fact that one of his planes would never reach its target."

The more I thought about it, the less ridiculous it seemed. "So… Mr. Linderman was running that show, even if the main players didn't know? What about his man, the one that was running for office? What happened to him?"

Builder rejoined the conversation, "Linderman does not tolerate people who take his money and fail to fulfill their obligations. They found the guy dead, hanging from his ceiling fan, a few weeks after the attacks. The note they found claimed that he had been involved in an affair with one of the passengers of the flight that went down in Pennsylvania, and that he couldn't stand living without his lover."

"Hmm… Okay… Now, assuming that you three are correct, about everything; assuming that there was more to 9/11 than almost anyone realized, and assuming Linderman was behind it, hell, even assuming that you're right about the big plan for Kirby Plaza, the question becomes quite simply what do you want with me? What am I supposed to do here?"

As the Dark Lady shifted her position, in what could only be described as a moment of fidgeting, I realized that it was the first time I had seen her give the appearance of less than total comfort. "I do not know, and I wish I did. The future is uncertain, and I have been unable to gain more than brief images and hints. I know you to be important, perhaps the most important of us all, save one. In my search for details, I have seen but a single image. In the image, there is a battlefield of immense proportions. Around us, I see others waging larger battles, but in our sphere I see five warriors.

"I see myself, the Dark Lady, standing furthest in the back, save one. Before me is a silver shield, far too great for me to carry. Although I am garbed as a warrior, and bear a sword at my waist, my helm clearly says that strength of arms is not to be my task. The helm encases my head, with the lone exception of my mouth. In the image, there are no gaps in the helm for me to see. This I know to mean that, though I have a role in the fight, my role is not that of a warrior. I am to use my visions of what is to be and what I read in the minds of others as my weapons.

"I see Ishmael as well. His is the shield I see before me, and it is he alone who is further back than am I. He stands with one hand on my shoulder, steadying and guiding me, and carries in the other a broadsword. Yet etched into the metal are all the languages of men. This is the token by which I know that, as he has ever been, my beloved is to be my protector and my interpreter.

"Builder is slightly to the side and in front of me, kneeling on the ground. It is only when he raises what he is working on so that he might better see it that I know what he is doing. He is creating armor and a sword. However, unlike that which garbs each of the rest, his is designed and built by himself, and will achieve a specific purpose. This, then, tells me his role in the events to come. His task will be, even as he ever does, to design and engineer that which we need, not to take arms himself.

"In the forefront, however, stand two shining figures. On the right you stand, the Light Warrior. Fully armored, you bear in your left hand a great sword. Yet, in your right you bear no physical weapon. Instead, you hold your right hand extended, and from it extends a blinding blade of pure light.

"From the image, I take all that is needful, and all that is given. For reasons which, thus far, remain unknown and unknowable, you are to be the warrior we need."

Shaken by this unexpected announcement, and no less by her absolute assurance, I sat in stunned silence for several minutes. Still, as I sat there, certain things which she had said, combined with certain glaring omissions, forced me to speak again. "You said, just before describing this vision, that I may well be the most important one, _save one_. You mentioned that there were five of us in the image, but _only described four_. You specifically stated that there were two in the front, and stated that I was on the right. _Who was on the left_? Who is this other person?"

Apparently I had touched on a sore spot, because they both looked extremely uncomfortable. When Ishmael finally spoke, he was very hesitant. "That's the entire problem. We simply don't know who it is." Seeing my incredulous look he pressed on, "For some reason, my ability has failed to interpret the phrase my Lady uses."

"What phrase?" I said this slowly, since I was a little worried about the possible answer, although there was no reason to be that I could think of.

The Dark Lady spoke quietly, almost as if she were ashamed of this failure. "Shield Maiden."

The term made no sense to me, but I hadn't really expected it to. Suddenly, a thought struck me, "Is there any way you can enter the image and describe her to me?"

The Lady sat silent for a few minutes as she thought of the possibility. Finally she nodded once. "I believe so. Obviously, I can't guarantee it, since it's not something I've ever done. Normally I just let the vision happen. I'll need absolute silence until I start speaking again."

With that, she stood up and turned of the only two lights which had been on. In the sudden darkness, I watched in something resembling suspense as she took three deep breaths and sunk into what appeared to be a trance. At first, her breathing appeared to stop. As I prepared to shake her awake, Ishmael grabbed me by one arm and sat me down. Shaking his head, he simply put his finger to his lips.

Almost as if that were a cue, she took a deep, shuddering breath and came out of her trance. Looking directly at me, she said, "What would you know?'

"Can you describe her?"

"In the vision, I was given more detail than I had yet received. The Shield Maiden stands no more than four inches shorter than you. As she stood beside you, the image took motion for but a moment. As she whirled in front of you, laughter reflected in her gold-speckled, amber eyes, she kissed two lips and pressed them to your lips. Laughing aloud, whether at something in your face or at the lust for battle I know not, she turned back into her place at your left, but crouched for battle. As she resumed her position, her armor shifted and revealed a curious mark." As I suddenly looked directly at her, I was remembering another woman who had what some would term a curious mark. With a slight smile, she nodded. "Yes, that is the mark. A small birthmark just beneath her right breast, in the shape of a wolf's head."

Turning his head back toward me, Ishmael was obviously stunned. "You _know_ this woman?"

Grinning ruefully, I shook my head in disbelief. "You could say that, I guess. I'm living with her." Looking at the Lady, I tried to make certain she understood what was going on. "Listen, I made up my mind a while ago that I was willing to join up with you and your merry band of lunatics. All things considered, it seems the best way to go- certainly safer than joining Linderman and his group, if you're right about all that. The fact that you were able to describe that birthmark- which is something very few people, aside from myself, know about- cinched it for me. You guys are the real deal.

"The problem I've got is that the woman you call the Shield Maiden, my lover, knows nothing about this. She doesn't know what I can do, and it's highly doubtful either that she can do anything herself, or that she even knows that people like us, who can do what we do, even exist.

"Like I said, I'll join up willingly. Fight the good fight. Slay the dragons. All that. But don't hold your breath about her."


	7. Chapter 1: Part 7

**Part 7: The Stranger**

With a knowing smile, the Dark Lady stood and walked gracefully toward the kitchen, where she held a whispered conversation with Builder. As this was going on, Ishmael caught my eye. "I can't speak for your girl, but the fact is I don't even need to. I recommend coming completely clean with her. She may just surprise you."

Muttering, mostly to myself, as Builder approached carrying yet another torture device, I grumbled, "If she stays around at all, after I explain things to her, I'll be surprised." Looking over at Builder, followed by a lightly smiling Lady, I raised my voice a little, "And what, exactly, is that thing supposed to do?"

He chuckled at my expression, and started laying it out, attaching several wires and leads to the computer and cart the Lady had been pushing behind him. "If I'm going to build you a device tailored toward concealing your ability from the snoopers hidden in your place, it would help if I knew what I was disguising and hiding. That's what this is for."

After he finished the final connections, he proceeded to connect the varied appurtenances to different areas of my body. Most of them were fairly obvious. There was a heart monitor, and an EEG and EKG hookup. There was a retina scanner as well, although it was attached to what appeared to have started life out as a pair of wire-frame glasses. When he slipped them on he commented that the set included a camera for recording pupil dilation as well as eye color.

When he set out a pair of cuffs, one long enough to mostly cover my forearm, I demanded an explanation. With a detached air, he explained as he attached the last pieces to my left arm. "The longest one encases most of your forearm. It contains, of course, the standard blood pressure cuff. However, it also includes 3 small needles for blood testing. They test your blood sugar, your blood chemistry, and then run tests for a variety of other distinctions in your blood.

"The smaller cuff attaches to your upper arm. It is designed with several sensors which test your biochemistry, you bioelectric field and your biomagnetic field. It also has other sensors which test small skin samples for a variety of reasons, and one sensor whose sole job is to sample your sweat and skin moisture for variations." When he connected the last closure, he stepped back to the computer. After tapping out what appeared to be several commands, he went into a flurry of typing. To this day, I doubt I could have followed it even had I been able to see the screen.

Finally, he told me to sit still and act normally for a couple minutes while it took what he termed the "Body Normal" measurements. I tried, but couldn't help wincing when the needles went in my forearm. After about five minutes he looked up from the computer monitor and said, "Now, I would like you to start using every aspect of your ability, one at a time, except for any destructive variants you may have. Hold the version until I tell you that it's okay, so I can run the tests each time."

When I got nods from both the Lady and Ishmael, I started going through my paces. I started by turning myself invisible, actively bending the light so that it flowed around me. When Builder gave me the go ahead, I straightened the light.

"Ishmael? I hate to do this, but I need your eyes for a minute or two."

With a puzzled look on his face, he asked, "What for?"

Finally it was my turn to chuckle. "It's nothing major. There is an aspect of my ability that allows me to temporarily blind an opponent. I can't really demonstrate it on myself, so I need someone else- and Builder needs his." Although he was reluctant, he nodded. With a moment's concentration, I stopped the light from entering his retinas, causing immediate blindness. When the word came from Builder, I gave his sight back.

I couldn't help laughing when he took a shuddering breath and stared at me in horror. Shamefaced at first, he started chuckling after a moment or two. "Damn, man. No wonder you're the Warrior, none of our abilities could even approximate something like that."

I suddenly realized that someone had turned the lights back on, probably when the Lady had gone to speak with Builder. "I'm going to need the lights out for this next bit. Both of the next demonstrations allow me to see in the dark." The Lady rose and turned off the switch by the door. The room was immediately plunged into darkness. "Now, Lady, if you'll wait a moment, I'll light your path." Calling my ability up, I gathered what little light filtered through the loft around my hand. Raising my right hand, I brightened the light until everybody could see clearly. As soon as Builder got the readings input, I turned off the light and allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness, turning what little light was left in the room into my eyes so that I could see as clearly as if it were dusk or dawn.

Again, I got the okay from Builder. I looked over at the Dark Lady who was still standing by the light switch. "Could you turn the light back on, please? And, do you have a flashlight handy?"

After she turned the lights back on, Ishmael reached down into a pocket in the side of his chair, and brought out a small light. Tossing it over to me, he asked, "Will this work?"

Looking at it quickly, I decided it would do. Turning it on, I stared right into it, gradually damping out the level of light I was receiving, until I could clearly see the bulb. When Builder got what he needed from that display, I turned off the light and tossed it back to Ishmael, who put it away. Closing my eyes, I shifted my vision into the ultraviolet range. Opening them again, I proceeded to look around for several minutes, until Builder indicated he was ready. I closed my eyes again, shifting back to the so-called visible spectrum and, after a couple seconds, shifted into the infrared. When I opened them again, I made the same circuit of the room. When Builder gave me the okay, I was just about to close my eyes, when I caught a glimpse of a shape standing in the doorway. I also heard the sound of a body making a startled shift to my side. Given the softness of the sound, I assumed it came from the Lady. That, coupled with the simple fact that I had seen nothing until just now, indicated that something strange was going on.

Shifting my head a little more, I centered the figure in my altered sight. Although I was unable to make out details, infrared is good for many things but not that, I was able to see that he was tall, if not the size of Ishmael. I couldn't make out anything else, but I didn't need to. Instead, I raised my hand and sent a shaft of hard light into his shoulder. It was neither hard nor hot enough to cause real damage, but it hurt him.

"Bloody hell! That sound, complete with a British accent, came from the shape as he staggered and grabbed the shoulder.

Ignoring the sound of Ishmael leaping to his feet, I stood up and leveled my hand again. "You have a choice, my friend. Either you tell me what the hell you're doing here, or the next one turns you from a rooster to a hen." Just to prove that I was serious, I sent a beam of light between his slightly spread legs. "That's the only warning you get."

"Jesus! How the hell are you seeing me, mate? I'm invisible. _Nobody_ sees me!"


	8. Chapter 1: Part 8

**Part 8: Coming Clean**

He was invisible? At least that explained why nobody but me could see him. "How much can you stand before you become visible again? How much pain? I swear to God, if you don't let us all see you _right the hell now_, I'll start with your gonads and move on to your legs. I won't stop until either you're dead or everybody can see you."

"Jesus, mate! Don't leave many openings, do ya? Suppose I made a run for it?" I was tired of playing around, so I changed tactics. I located his eyes, and blinded him. Then I shot him in the thigh, just below the tenderest region, and made the beam hot enough to give a small burn. "Bloody hell, mate! I'm done. See, you can see me now, I'm out in the open, aren't I?"

When Ishmael touched my shoulder, I closed my eyes and relaxed. When I had shifted my vision back to the normal spectrum, I opened them again. Crouched on the floor, holding himself and looking at me with a slight look of fear, was a man of about thirty-five or forty. His unkempt hair and beard were showing signs of grey, and his rumpled outfit looked like it had been worn for several days without being washed. I risked a look behind me, and saw a rare look of rage in Ishmael's eyes. I had the distinct impression he wouldn't have minded had I rendered our visitor down to ash. Mostly to avoid unneeded violence, I asked, "Ishmael, could you help our guest to a seat?"

With barely controlled anger, he said, "I guess." He stalked over to the man, nudged him with a foot and said, "On your feet. Either I support you as you walk, or I grab a leg and drag you." As the stranger rolled to his knees, he reached out a hand for help getting up.

Ishmael grabbed the proffered arm. However, instead of taking the hand he grasped the wrist. Even as he jerked our visitor to his feet, he started putting on the pressure. As soon as the man was standing, however, Ishmael whipped him around into an arm lock and propelled him into the room, increasing his pressure on the wrist all the while. While this was happening, I waved Builder over and had him start disconnecting me from his machine. At the same time, I looked at the Dark Lady, rubbing my head with my free hand. "I don't suppose you happen to have any headache medicine, do you?" As she left the room, I sat down and glanced over at our reluctant guest. After I restored his vision, he sat up from where Ishmael had dropped him on the sofa and looked around, rubbing his wrist and muttering under his breath.

After I swallowed the pills the Lady brought back, I waited a couple minutes until I felt the headache lessen. Then I decided to deal with this guy. "Now I want some damned answers. Who are you? What are you doing here? Most importantly, who the _hell_ sent you?"

"Hold on a minute there, pal. You got it wrong. Nobody sent me here. Hell, nobody sends me anywhere."

"Then explain just what your limey ass was doing here!"

"Calm down mate. I was just walking around out there, seeing what I could see. You and your bud with the iron grip come into the hall, acting like the stars of a bad spy novel, and my curiosity was raised a bit, you could say. I tagged along when you entered, and spotted the lady over there. I recognized her from some files I, shall we say, _liberated_ from my previous employer, and kept my head down, so to speak." He paused for a minute, and then gave me a short bitter grin. "Not long after I unofficially logged out those files, said employer attempted to permanently retire me. That's when I decided to just… disappear." As if that comment brought it back to his mind, he looked keenly at me. "You still haven't said how you managed to bloody well see me!"

"You're right. I didn't. Keep talking. Who are you?"

"None of your damned business, that's who!'

"Wrong answer! You weren't invited into this apartment, which means I have you for illegal trespass. The fact that you turn invisible means nothing to me, since I can see you in that form. I have the ability to burn you down to ashes, starting with the choicest bits first, if you don't start being honest. That is, assuming I don't let Ishmael here have his druthers and rip you into pieces. You have 30 seconds to start telling us the friggin' truth!"

"Bugger! Fine. They call me Claude and I used to work for the guys you're talking about confronting. I didn't completely approve of their methods, so I started hiding things from them. Once they found out, they had my partner, a guy I thought was my friend, try to kill me. He shot me twice before I managed to get away.

"How I came to be here is exactly what I told you. When the boy there started running you through your paces, I decided I wanted to see for myself. That's when you caught me and decided to use me for target practice. Happy now?"

I risked a quick glance away when I felt a small hand take my shoulder. Looking down, I noticed the Dark Lady concentrating. Finally she looked up at me and said, "He's telling the truth, Warrior. He is not working for anyone, and is wanted by the same people we're facing."

"Are you positive about that?"

"Absolutely." The look on her face guaranteed that there could be no question.

"All right." Looking back at the man who called himself Claude, I made an instant decision. "We're going to let you go. You don't switch to invisible until you leave the apartment." Crossing over to him, I grabbed his shirt in both hands and dragged him up until we were face to face. "But, I swear to God, if I _ever_ find you nosing in on our business again, I will make it my personal mission to finish what your previous employers started. Am I understood?"

Gagging, Claude nodded. I dropped him and watched him stagger out the door, fading from sight as he ran down the hall. Looking back at the Lady, I asked, "I don't suppose you got anything useful, did you?"

"Sorry. All I was able to really get, without digging, was that he lives in deathly fear that this Organization will find him. The only thing I was able to get were three names, all of them linked with either fear or hatred, or some mixture."

"Names? Which ones?"

"Linderman seems to be the one he was most afraid of. The others were Thompson, who instilled more hatred than fear, although both were present, and Bennet, who seems to be causing most of the hatred."

I knew the name Linderman of course, but Thompson was completely new to me. On the other hand, "Bennet? Do you suppose he means _Noah_ Bennet?"

The Lady seemed lost in thought for a minute. "It's possible, but he didn't associate a first name, so it's impossible to be certain. Why?"

"There's a Noah Bennet down in Texas, I believe he lives in or near Odessa. He's the boss at Primatech Paper down there. I talked with him for a while a couple years ago. He was up here on business, and I arranged a few sales for him."

"That's him. The name was linked with Texas, and with Primatech."

That was interesting. That also probably meant that it wasn't coincidence that we had met that time either. I looked at my watch and was more than a little surprised at how much time had passed. I had gotten there around 8, and it was almost 1 now. "Listen, I need to be getting back home. Is there anything else we need to talk about?"

Builder stood from where he had been working while we questioned Claude. He pressed a video tape into my hands, grinning at my confusion. "It's not exactly what it looks like. Don't get me wrong, it is a video. It'll even play in most VHS machines. I think it's a nature documentary of some kind. The important part about it, though, is what you can't see. The case is a special design of mine. It contains a series of emitters which will force every imaginable snooper to report that nothing is happening. They'll disguise the handful of telltales you have when using your abilities. All you have to do is store it with your videos when you get back, and it'll take care of the rest." I shook his hand and thanked him.

As Ishmael grabbed his car keys and headed for the front door, I received a quick hug and chaste kiss on the cheek from the Dark Lady, along with a warning. "Be careful, Light Warrior. They will be watching, and we need both you and the Maiden if we are to survive."

After we left, we took a slightly more direct route to the car. Half an hour later, we pulled up in front of my complex. Turning to me, Ishmael took my hand, pressed a small business card into it, and, grinning, said, "Remember, whatever happens, be honest with her. Tell her everything. She deserves to know. More importantly, if she's to be ready for whatever is going to happen, she _needs _to know."

"I know. I don't know exactly how to tell her, but I guess I don't really have much choice. It's the last of the real secrets anyway." With a slightly forced grin, I left the car and headed up to our loft. Letting myself in, I put the tape with the others, and looked around. "Marita, honey? I'm back."

Almost immediately, I found myself tackled by a gorgeous armful of Latina. If I hadn't been so close to our favorite overstuffed chair, I probably would have ended up on the floor. After an extended, and extended, kiss, she lifted her lips from mine. "I wasn't sure when you'd be back, and I didn't have to work today, so I did some shopping. I bought ingredients for a tamale salad, and a red chili. I even bought a white Chardonnay to go along with dinner. "For desert, I bought something I especially think you'll enjoy." That slightly naughty grin gave me a hint about the dessert. "Now, come, get something to eat, and tell me about your day while I prepare supper." With that she gave me another quick kiss, hopped up and walked back to the kitchen.

As I followed her, I tried to figure out exactly how to break the news to her. After we entered the kitchen, I made a quick salad and poured some water. When I sat down and started to eat, I realized that I was simply delaying the inevitable. I had been right earlier; I didn't really have much choice in the matter. I was involved, and she had the right to know about it. Looking up I said, "Marita, could you sit down with me for a few minutes? There's something I need to talk to you about." She looked a little startled, but willingly sat down across the island in the middle of the kitchen from me. Taking a drink, I pushed my salad to the side and began. "I don't know, really, how to tell you this. I have a secret that I think it's time you knew about."

I proceeded to tell her everything. I told her about how my father died, how I killed him. I told her about the trick fate had played on my genetic code. I told her about the call that morning, and about meeting Ishmael and his group. I even told her about that head case, Claude. I held absolutely nothing back.


	9. Chapter 1: Part 9

**Part 9: The Shield Maiden **

She let me talk. For the next hour she listened as I came completely clean, concealing nothing. She only stopped me a couple of times so she could check some of the food on the stove. When I finished she sat still for several minutes, apparently lost in thought. When she finally spoke, there was a gentle firmness in her voice that I have only rarely heard, before or since. The gaiety which usually underlay her tone was completely absent as she said, "Lucius, do you remember what I told you when we discussed my moving in here?"

That one, I had to admit, caught me completely off guard. It took me a couple minutes to remember, primarily because it had been a little over 2 weeks since that particular conversation. "Well, sort of. We were down at Antonio's in Manhattan. We had just ordered desserts when you brought up the idea, nearly making me choke on my wine as I recall. I seem to remember you saying something about destiny bringing us together. I can't remember exactly, sorry. I was a bit distraught at the time."

She flashed a small grin at me, "Just a little bit." Her face and voice once again grew serious. "What I said was that, whether you accepted or even knew it or not, fate had taken a hand in our lives, and we were made for each other." She got up and mover around the island, sitting down next to me. Taking my hand, she brought it to her lips and gently kissed the knuckles, holding it as she finished her statement. "We may not be married yet, and I may not have taken the vows before you, God, and _mi familia_, but that doesn't matter. Since the day I first saw you at the club, weeks before I first asked you to dance, I have known that our destiny lay together.

"When I moved in with you I made your struggles mine. I became more than just your lover, more than just your friend. I became your confidante. What was it you said that woman called me?"

"She called you the Shield Maiden. Why?"

"Do you realize what she was actually saying with that?"

"Not really. She claimed that to be the way she saw you in her vision, but that's all I know about it."

"You obviously don't know what she was really saying then. It means that she saw me as more than simply a woman who was your partner and shared your bed, and it means she saw me as more than just a warrioress. Any woman can share the bed of a warrior, just as any woman can fight. The Shield Maiden, however, was something special. She partnered with a warrior, and they were frequently lovers. But that was not the extent of the relationship. She fought by his side, but she was also his protector, shielding him with her own body if needed. She was his healer, his comforter. If he fell on the field of battle, she guarded his body, sacrificing herself if so required. It was an intense, passionate relationship which few have ever been able to fully understand."

She laughed suddenly, the sparkle back in her eyes and the gaiety back in her voice. "But I'm already all of that, and you are my chosen warrior. Your victories are mine, and mine are yours. All things are shared between us, victories and defeats, joy and despair, love and hate. We are joined, you and I, by more than just our choices. We are two separate people, yet we are one entity." Squeezing my hand in hers, she finished, "What you face, we face."

Suddenly unable to easily speak, all I managed was, "Thanks."

"Let me guess, you were worried that I was going to think you _completamente loco_, or that I would think you were lying to me?"

Swallowing against the lump that had finally decided to become mobile, and on the edge of tears, I quietly said, "No. Actually, I was terrified that you'd leave me."

Her glorious eyes suddenly widened, glistening with unshed tears. Gently she raised a hand and laid it against my cheek. "_¿Dejar?__ No, mi amor. __¡Jamás!_" We were silent then as I allowed the warmth of her hand and her voice to remove the last of the dread that had threatened to consume me.

After several minutes passed, she pressed her fingers to my lips and walked over to the stove in order to check the food. Finishing my salad and water, I went to the sink and washed out the bowl. Reaching into the minibar, I pulled out the rum, pouring about a quarter of a glass before putting it away. Going to the refrigerator, I dropped in about four ice cubes and topped it off with Coke. Back out in the living area, I grabbed the tape Builder had created for me. Out of curiosity I put it in the VCR to see what, if anything, was on it. He was as good as his word. It contained three National Geographic documentaries. I only made it through the first one and half of the second when Marita called me from the kitchen. "Lucius? Supper's just about ready. Go ahead and take a shower now, because you won't get a chance later."

Well, with a promise like that, who was I to argue? I hopped into the shower, and did my business. Coming out, I climbed into a pair of khaki slacks and a navy polo shirt. As I left the shower, she was just heading in with an armload of something I couldn't quite make out. When I asked about it, she just flashed me a wicked smile and said, "Later."

After I set the table, lighting the candles and arranging the food, she walked in. She was wearing a black wrap dress that was tight in all the right places. I couldn't quite place the perfume, but was definitely interested. Formality seemed the order, so I took her arm and guided her to her seat at the table. After the wine had been poured and the salad served, I brought up a subject I had been unable to think of how to discuss earlier. "Marita, do you remember the talk we had earlier?"

With a smile she replied that of course she did, so I pressed on. "You didn't seem overly shocked that I told you I had a special ability, or even when I told you I had met others who had different, but still unique, abilities. If you don't mind me asking, why?"

"Why wasn't I surprised?"

"Yes."

Taking a sip of her wine, we ate a few bites of salad while she gathered her thoughts. "You know that I spent the first ten years of my life in Pachuca De Soto, right?" Nodding, I allowed her to continue. "It's a modern city, by Mexican standards, and is a tourist attraction. Everything the _Americanos_ could want is there, for a price. Despite all that, however, it is still a distinctly Mexican city, with Mexican beliefs pervading it. The Mexican people have long had a keener belief in the supernatural than the _Norte Americanos_. Although the custom isn't as popular in more modern cities, a lot of the remoter villages still practice rituals designed to keep the evil spirits away, and to allow their deceased loved ones passage into the next world. Many houses, even in the larger cities, will have charms and amulets scattered throughout. In many of them, this is nothing more than tradition. However, for what are still a large number of them, it is more. They are following the traditions, in the hopes that the blessings they want will come, that the Evil One will not be given entry, and in the hopes that they will be protected from various evil spirits." Having both finished our salads, I served the chili.

After I sat back down, she continued. "All of that is to say this; I am predisposed, by upbringing as well as by personality, to believe that there is more to life than we can see. I tend to live my life by the philosophy contained in a single line from _Hamlet_. It's an aside from Hamlet to Horatio, and he says 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'

"That's pretty much how I live my life. I accept what I see as what is real, but am willing to believe that there are things we can neither see nor easily explain." Looking across the table at me, she suddenly smiled again. "Besides, you're the one who told me."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that, even had I not been inclined to believe such things could exist, the fact that you told me about them was proof that they did."

Shaking my head, I swallowed another spoonful of chili. "I'm sorry, Marita. I'm not tracking here."

"You couldn't lie to me, even if you wanted to. I know you too well. You're a man, one of the all too few, to whom honor still means something. I know I can trust you. You could no more lie to me than you could cheat on me- not that I ever anticipate giving you reason to do that either." Another slightly naughty smile peeked out at me. Then she continued, "Once you've given someone you're word, even if it wasn't in words that you did so, you hold yourself bound to it. That iron hard sense of honor is one of the things I love about you."

Puzzling my way through all that, I was a little flabbergasted at what it boiled down to. "So, you're saying that you believed what I said, simply because I said it? What about the note I left? That was an obvious lie."

She didn't even miss a beat. "Actually, it wasn't exactly a lie. I woke up enough to hear your end of the conversation. You had to go, to find out what he wanted. But you also wanted to let me know you were leaving. The note said that you were handling an emergency call. That was true."

"I thought I told you I was handling an emergency call from a client?"

"Nope. You may have wanted to, but you didn't. All that the note actually said was 'Emergency Call. Got to go. Could be hours. Back ASAP.' Nothing more."

Now that she mentioned it, I remembered writing those words as I flew out the door. We finished the rest of the dinner in an agreeable silence.

After dinner was over, we cleaned the table and stacked the dishes in the sink, putting what little food remained in the refrigerator. Reclining into the overstuffed chair, we watched a video she had picked up while out, _Casablanca_. After it was over, we both started getting ready for bed. She took over the master bathroom, so I had to brush my teeth in the main one.

When I walked into the bedroom, however, I was forcibly reminded of what she had said earlier about buying something else she thought I'd like. She was standing in the bedroom door, through which I could see the lights had already been turned down, wearing a very short, very sheer black chemise. With a smile that was no longer only vaguely naughty, she asked, "Do you like it?"

There was no appropriate answer, so I went over and kissed her. As the kiss became longer and more intense, she removed my shirt, breaking the kiss only long enough to take it over my head. When I felt her hands move to my waist, I kicked out of my shoes and socks, and slid the chemise from her shoulders, listening as it fell in a puddle around her feet. As she stepped out of it, we moved toward the bed.


	10. Chapter 2: Part 1

**Part 1: Close Encounter**

Luckily, neither of us had anything planned the next day, so it didn't matter that we didn't wake up until shortly after noon. Lying on my back, I turned my head and looked where Marita lay half covered and pressed against my side. As the previous night's events ran through my mind, I briefly considered waking her up for another round. Instead I settled for a quick kiss in the hollow of her throat, and then untangled myself.

Climbing out of the bed, I slid into a pair of shorts and wandered into the kitchen. Putting a pot of coffee on, I washed my hands and then washed the dishes left from dinner. After about fifteen minutes or so the dishes were drying and I sat at the island with a cup of coffee. As I sipped at the hot liquid, a pair of arms encircled my waist as I felt a pair of full lips kiss the base of my neck. Leaning my head into her, I realized that Marita was still nude, having simply slipped out of bed and come into the kitchen. When I whipped my head around for a better look, she laughed and gave me a quick nip on the ear before heading over to the coffee pot.

Enjoying the view, I finished my coffee while she poured hers and took her seat. After I was finished, I rinsed out my cup and set it by the pot. "I'm going to go ahead and take a quick shower, and then grab the papers."

She turned, threw me an arch look over her shoulder, and said, "You want company?"

Laughing, I walked over to her and gave her a quick kiss. "Tempting, but I think I'd like to get out of the apartment sometime today, 'Rita." Heading back into the bedroom, I grabbed a pair of khakis and a casual polo, and then went into the master bathroom. Turning the water on, I let it run while I shaved and brushed my teeth. Stepping in, I adjusted the temperature until it was just barely below scalding, and let it go to work on a sore kink I had noticed when I got up.

As I was rinsing my hair for the last time, and preparing to shut the water off, I heard the shower door open and felt her come in. "Go ahead and leave it running, baby. I need a shower too, and you've got it warmed up already. Reaching around, she dragged her fingernails down my chest, across a certain spot she was well aware of on my stomach, and let her voice drop an octave, "Unless of course, you'd like to stay and scrub my back?"

Turning around, I returned the favor by running my fingers up her spine and lightly kissing her neck just above her shoulder. "Hold that thought, gorgeous. We'll want to discuss it when I get back." Somewhat regretfully, I stepped out of the shower, toweled myself dry and dressed.

Life can be funny sometimes. Had I taken my lover up on her offer, I wouldn't have left the apartment for at least the next several hours. This probably would have meant that I wouldn't have encountered the man I did outside, and none of what did happen would have. As it was, I found myself leaving our apartment around 1:15, where I passed a man who appeared quite interested in the people leaving our building.

When I first passed him, I didn't pay much attention. However, as I slowly walked the block and a half to the vendor, I caught him following me rather closely. At one point I had a couple of seconds to check him out as a couple emergency vehicles flew past us. Turning to watch them pass, I kept watch on him out of the corner of my eyes.

He appeared to be about my age, with close cropped blonde hair and goatee. The cut of his seemingly expensive suit made it hard to be certain, but he seemed to be in excellent shape. He also appeared to be somewhat shorter than Marita, but probably not by much. At about that point in my examination the emergency vehicles turned a corner, so I turned back around and continued walking. A couple more times I managed to catch the reflection of him following me in the glass windows we passed.

When we reached the vendor, I risked another glance around and wound up making eye contact with my follower. His pale blue eyes held mine for a minute, and then he turned and left. After picking up the Post, Times and World News, I grabbed a couple of her favorite magazines. Paying for my purchases, I headed back. Just before I reached my building, I saw my tail leaning against a wall. As I passed him, he straightened up and began following me again.

Entering my building I headed back to the elevators, but ducked into the stairs at the last minute. As soon as the door began to swing shut behind me, I convinced the light to ignore me, rendering myself invisible. I had barely gotten it done when the man burst into the stairway. Cursing under his breath when he didn't see me, he ran down the steps, only to find the unused boiler room and old storage area. Turning back around, he ran up a flight of stairs, cursing louder than before. Finally, He turned back around, kicked the wall, and shouted out, "Son of a BITCH!" Taking his mobile from his belt and dialed a number. "Hello? Yeah, it's me, Dan. Listen, we have a problem. Anybody tell _you_ what that bastard can do? 'Cause they sure didn't bother giving me the info.

"Whaddya mean, 'What happened?' I tried to grab him and he dropped off the face of the earth, that's what happened. Listen; don't give me that shit, okay. I tailed him, followed him into the stairway in his building, and he was gone. I couldn't have been more than a second or two behind him and he was fucking gone! Yeah, I mean exactly that- like he vanished or something.

"Listen, I'll meet you at the coffee shop, okay? Yeah, I know what you mean- I'm not exactly looking forward to talking to Thompson about this little snag either." When he disconnected the call, he was walking right in front of me. Making an instant decision, I whipped my hand out and grabbed him by the throat. Using the same momentum, I spun around and smashed the back of his head into the wall, knocking him instantly unconscious.


	11. Chapter 2: Part 2

**Part 2: Captured Enemy**

After attaching his phone to my belt, I crouched down and threw him over a shoulder. Extending my invisibility to include him, I lumbered up the stairs until reaching my level. Leaving the stair well, I dug out my keys as I reached the door.

Marita looked up as I let myself in; her face betraying her shock at seeing the door apparently open and close its self. Only after the door latched did I allow myself and my erstwhile tail to become visible. She sat bolt upright in the chair, her face draining of all color. "_¿Qué?_" Her eyes traveled from my face to my shoulder, where she saw the burden I was carrying. "_¿Muerto?_"

Stumbling to the sofa where I could drop him, I grunted that he was alive but unconscious. Sitting down in the nearest chair, I began rubbing my shoulder. Walking up behind me, Marita slipped my hand away and began massaging it herself. "What's going on, Lucius?"

After letting her massage the shoulder for a couple minutes, I stood up. "I'm not sure, 'Rita. I'm really not." Seeing the look on her face, I hurried on. "I wish I was. Listen, before we get into this further, don't we have a couple lengths of rope floating around here somewhere?"

"_Sí_, I think so, but why?"

"Because he should be waking up shortly, and I need some answers out of him." As we looked for the rope, I told her everything that had happened so far. After we found the rope I took her into the kitchen and demonstrated the main uses of my ability, letting her know precisely what I could and couldn't do. Heading back out into the living area, I asked her to grab a blanket out of the closet. While she was doing that, I stripped the stranger down to his underwear and socks, and set the suit and shoes aside to be gone through. With that done, I tied his wrists, ankles and elbows. When Marita came out, carrying the blanket, we covered our captive. Doing this, we both noticed a strange mark on his right shoulder, near the swell of the trapezius muscle. Bending down for a better look, I traced my finger over it. It was a double slash scar, similar to what you would see if you hit the back slash key on a computer twice in a row. Rubbing my chin in thought, I looked at my lover. I knew, without asking, that the quizzical expression she wore was mirrored in my own face.

Standing back up, I finished draping the blanket over him, and crossed to the pile of clothing. As I bent to pick up the suit coat, I remembered the card Ishmael pressed into my hand when he brought me back yesterday. Digging out my wallet, I slid the card out and read it. It was plain white, with no typing on it. Handwritten in blue ink was _For Emergency Only_ and the phone number (212) 620-7193. Picking up the kitchen phone, I dialed the number.

After three rings, the other end picked up. "No names. Who is this?"

"Light Warrior."

The deep voice on the other end paused for a minute before speaking again. "Keep talking."

Shaking my head at this cloak and dagger routine, I continued. 'I was followed today. I managed to knock him out. He's sleeping on my sofa right now."

Marita's voice called from the other room. "Lucius? I think he's starting to wake up. He's groaning and moving a little."

The voice, belonging to Ishmael, finally registered an emotion. Filled with shock, and what sounded suspiciously like glee, he said, "You _grabbed_ one?"

"Yes. Hold on one minute." Carrying the phone, I walked to the door and looked at our captive. Using my ability, I gave the light a little tweak and blinded him. "He can't see anything, even if he wakes up. What's the next step?"

"Hold him for a little while, and try to keep him from getting away. I'll be over within about 30 minutes." With that, he disconnected his side of the conversation.

Hanging the phone back up, I walked back out into the living area and sat in our favorite chair. Remembering the sack I had brought in with me, I dumped it on the side table, taking the magazines and handing them to Marita. With a quick smile, she set them aside. "What are we going to do about him?"

Absently looking at his face, I scratched my chin. "Again, I'm not really sure. I made the call, and they're on their way over. Hopefully they'll have some answers." Reaching down, I grabbed the suit coat and started searching through the pockets, and feeling along the seams. Feeling a slight bump, about the size of a credit card, I cut into the seam and removed a unique identity card. Setting that aside, I continued the search. After completely checking the coat, I grabbed the pants, which held a single wallet, as well as the usual junk found in a man's pockets. Searching the shirt yielded another wallet, and a couple pens. Feeling along the tie failed to turn up anything, as did the shoes. When I finished going through his clothing, Marita bent down from where she was seated beside me, and curiously picked up the two weapons. "What are these, lover?"

Taking them from her, I looked them over. Setting down the one in the belt holster, I took the other out of its shoulder holster. Turning it around in my hands, I looked carefully at it. "This one appears to be a fairly standard .45. It may or may not have been modified, I can't really tell right now. If it has been, it was done to give it more stopping power." Which I found to be odd, since a .45 is capable of stopping pretty much anything shot with it. Setting that aside, I picked up the other one. "This I don't recognize. It's not quite like any gun I've seen before… Wait a minute." Suddenly, I was remembering a sale I had made some time ago. It was a legal weapons sale, from a registered company to a government company. Careful to keep my hand off the trigger, I turned it around and glanced at the barrel. "Yeah. See the three holes here, instead of the regular single? I'm fairly certain that we're looking at a tranq gun here. It shoots out a trio of darts containing a fairly powerful soporific. Taken together, they put almost anything to sleep in minutes. What I'm not sure about is why he has this as well as the .45."

Setting those aside, I picked up the thinner of the two wallets. Opening it up, we saw a couple different identification badges. The first one was an employment badge for the Primatech Paper Company down in Odessa, Texas. The second badge showed him as employed by the Linderman Group, based in Las Vegas. Both badges listed him simply as Daniel, with no last name. Further looking through the wallet revealed nothing hidden. However, as I was reaching down for the other wallet, our captive tried to sit up and started cursing. Getting out of the chair, I walked over to him and slapped his face. "Watch your tongue, buddy, there's a lady in the room."

Turning his blind face toward me, he swore for a couple more seconds before gaining control of himself. "What'd you do to me, rip out my eyes? I can't see a damned thing!"

"Just shut up, we'll deal with you soon enough."

"I'll be damned if I'll shut up, I want an answer!"

Shrugging at Marita, I picked up his tranq gun from where I had discarded it, and shot him in the stomach. Within seconds, he was silent and unmoving. After finding a steady pulse, I sat back down with her and picked up the other wallet. Looking through it, I found yet another form of identity. In this case, it was a New York driver's license identifying him as Daniel Mills. He had about six hundred dollars in cash, as well as several credit cards. Picking up the change and the pens from his pocket, I looked at all of them. Two of the pens had interesting additions. One of them hid a skeleton key inside the body. Another one contained a small computer memory stick, probably containing some useful information, although I wasn't willing to trust it in our computer.

That left me with the single identity disk I had found in his suit jacket's lining. Picking it up, I saw only his name, the same marks I had seen on his neck, and an address in Kirby Plaza. Marita saw the puzzled expression that crossed my face and asked about it. Before I could explain, there was a knock at the door. Looking through the peep hole, I saw Ishmael, the Dark Lady and Builder. Opening the door, we let them in.


	12. Chapter 2: Part 3

**Part 3: The Interrogation **

As they came in, they introduced themselves to Marita, telling her they knew her as the Shield Maiden. Pointing out Daniel where he lay on the sofa, I commented, "I think our guest will sleep for a while yet. Why don't we go to the kitchen, get some drinks, and decide how we're going to do this." As Marita made coffee and started pouring drinks, I went back to the living room and picked up the various items we'd discovered, and the phone.

While the three of them looked at the other items, I started poking around on the phone. The phone book contained five numbers: a Texas number for Primatech Paper, a Las Vegas number for the Linderman Group, an overseas number labeled Chennai Contact, as well as two New York numbers under the headings Partner and Headquarters. The recent calls showed one to Partner, a couple to Bennet and several from someone named Thompson. The only other item of interest was a single text message from Headquarters that read, "CONT WHEN S MERCH BAGGED 4 SHIP."

Looking up, I thanked Marita for the Irish coffee and caught Ishmael's attention. Dumping the phone on the pile I said, "This stuff pretty much let's us know who our guest is, and gives us some idea of who or what he's working for. What I need, though, is the details. Is there some way we can get the information without resorting to, shall we say, _crude_ interrogation techniques?"

He laughed quietly. "That's why I brought the Lady along."

Turning to her in surprise, I said, "Can you really get more than surface thoughts? I guess I assumed you to be limited in that regard."

She smiled slightly, and took a small drink from the tea she had requested. 'When reading men's minds, emotions are easiest to see, and are what I first look at. When it comes to reading thoughts or memories, it is much more difficult. It gets more difficult still the further they are buried. Those things one is most desirous of concealing lay buried under layers of secrecy, making it nearly impossible to see them unless the mind is specifically led to them."

Naturally, as she worked with lawyers regularly, Marita was the first of the two of us to figure out what she meant. "In other words, you need one of us to question him in such a way that he has to think of those things he wants to keep secret?" With a slight grin she said, "I can do that easily." Arching her eyebrow at me, she asked, "How long can you keep him blind?"

"The hard part is starting or stopping it. Once I blind somebody, they stay that way until I change my mind."

"_Bueno_, when do we start?"

"In a minute." Turning to Builder, I tossed over the memory stick. "Is there some way to open this without risking any damage or hacking to my computer?"

Holding it in his hand, he concentrated for a minute on the problem. "Yeah, shouldn't be a problem."

"Good. In that case, while we're having a chat with our guest, you can go ahead and see what's on there."

"Where's the computer?"

"Depends on how quiet you want it. There's a computer in the living room, on the other side from where we'll be, or you can use the one in the study area around the corner."

As we headed into the living room, he sat down at the computer and began working. Ishmael and the Dark Lady sat down in chairs near the sofa, while Marita handed a notepad and pen over before ensconcing herself in our chair. I, on the other hand, stood behind the sofa in so I could quickly control and reprimand him as needed. It was needed almost immediately. After slapping him awake, he levered himself to a semi-seated position and began to swear about his blindness, the ropes and his state of undress. After a couple seconds of this, I cuffed him on the back of the head. "Watch your mouth, Danny boy. There's a lady in the room. I seem to remember telling you that earlier." With this, I signaled Marita to begin questioning him.

She waited for another minute, looking through the various ID badges while she composed her thoughts. "I suppose the best place to begin is with the simple question of your identity and employer. Your badges all indicate your name to be Daniel Mills, but that doesn't exactly mean much. They also indicate that you work for Primatech Paper in Texas, the Linderman Group in Vegas, and some unnamed company at Kirby Plaza. All of this leads to the simple question of who are you and who do you work for?"

His face had turned white while she was speaking. Almost before she finished, he spat in her direction and growled out, "I'm telling you nothing, Bitch!"

Grabbing his hair in one hand, I pulled him upright and slapped him hard enough to leave a handprint. "Politeness, boy. You don't spit at a lady, and you better learn to control your tongue in her presence, or this is gonna get really painful, really fast. Now answer her question, who are you and who do you work for?"

For the better part of two hours this continued. Ruled by a shake or nod of the Dark Lady's head, Marita proved herself to be nearly a genius when it came to questioning our captive. Repeating questions, rewording questions, doubling back to cover already covered information, she found him in several inconsistencies and jumped on them with all the viciousness of a lioness on the hunt. Several times during the course of the interrogation, he started swearing at her, forcing me to smack him down. At one point, however, he sat up as straight as he could, spat in her direction again and said, "Fuck you, cunt. I'm telling you shit, whore!"

I couldn't believe what I had just heard. Hearing a gasp, I saw Marita nearly leap to her feet and slap him across the face. It was only when I looked down and saw blood on his cheek that I realized she was slicing him with her nails. Before I could get around the sofa, she smacked him, nails curled in, a couple more times. Finally I was able to get hold of her, stopping her from slicing into him again. As if my touch freed her tongue, she began screaming out profanities in English, Spanish and what sounded like French. It took several minutes to get her calmed back down. Finally we were able to finish the questioning.

After asking her last question of Dan, she looked around and said, "So, is that everything then?"

Looking over at the Dark Lady for confirmation, I said, "Seems to be," as I went back around the sofa. Kneeling in front of our captive, I grabbed him by the throat, which was wet with the blood from his torn cheek. Lifting him until he was at eye level, with me blocking his view of anyone else, I removed the blindness from his eyes. Keeping a firm grip on his throat, I made my voice as low and menacing as possible and rumbled, "Listen you stupid bastard, you're going to be free in a couple minutes. I want, however, to impress one thing on you: if I ever, at any point, find you on my tail I will hunt you down and murder you like the dog you are. Is that understood?" I started squeezing until he nodded, at which point I slammed my fist into the side of his head, hard enough to render him unconscious.

After untying the ropes, I dragged him through living and dining rooms until reaching the fire escape. Looking out, I waited until nobody was near and then opened the window, turning myself and him invisible while I did so. Dumping him out onto the escape, I grabbed his clothing, turning it invisible as well, and joined him on the escape. Hauling him down, I dumped him and his clothing into the trash bin, making him and his clothing visible after doing so. After climbing back up, I turned myself visible as I climbed through the window and closed it.

Stopping long enough to wash my hands in the kitchen, I sat down in our chair with Marita, letting her curl into me as I draped my arm around her waist. Looking over at Ishmael and the Lady, I asked, "So, what were you able to learn from him?"

Consulting her notes regularly, she told us everything she had gleaned from her mind reading. "Although he remembers being called by another name at one point, he associates only the name Daniel Mills with himself. He's not even certain what that other name was. He works for a group which he refers to merely as the Organization. It appears to have no actual name. Primatech Paper and the Linderman Group are both front companies for the Organization, and the Kirby Plaza address seems to be its main headquarters. Although he takes his orders from someone named Thompson, he believes that Thompson takes orders from at least one other person higher up.

"As of now, those orders regard you, Light Warrior. He and his partner have been ordered to locate and, to use their euphemism, collect you. In other words, you were to be abducted and taken to the facilities in the Kirby Plaza office. Once there, you were to be studied and tested, possibly recruited if you proved amenable.

"He and his partner comprise what he termed a Bag and Tag team. They work in two man teams, comprising a partner that is what the Organization terms a Special Genome [Manifested, SG[M for short, and a partner that is Normal. The marks on his neck and on the special id badge you found indicate that he is the SG[M on this team. In his case, it takes the form of Empathic Psionic Manipulation. Basically, he is able to find those deepest emotional motivators and triggers, and create a purely psionic illusion giving them full play." She shuddered a little as she recalled what she read in his mind. "He delights in locating those deepest, darkest fear triggers and forcing his victims to live them. He has killed several people this way, literally frightening them to death."

As we digested that information, Builder hollered out from his station at the computer. "Hey, guys, you'll never believe this stuff!" After we had gathered around the computer, he pressed a few keys and brought up a Power Point presentation. The presentation linked hundreds of prophecies and pieces of artwork with the events that they predicted. Nostradamus, Da Vinci, Michelangelo, even the work from a new artist named Isaac Mendez were included, among others, and were shown to predict nearly all major, and several minor, events for the last thousand years. Finally a voice came on as new art was shown which predicted the same explosion in New York City that the Dark Lady's prophecy did. According to the voice over, the total death count would be ".07 percent" of the world's population. He said that the world would unite in a "common hope born of a common fear." He clearly explained that Nathan Petrelli would win his congressional election by a landslide, and that the explosion would happen no more than 2 days afterward, propelling Petrelli into the White House.

As the presentation faded away, Builder said, "Hold on, we're not done yet." Pushing some more keys, he brought up a rapid series of pictures. Thousands of images flashed by in mere seconds. Although they flew by too fast to make out details, I could tell that markings and borders were different on some than others.

"While you guys were chatting up our friend over there, I found this. The black border around some of the pictures indicates that the person in question is a member of the Organization, but the red one means they've been tagged but not recruited. The double slash in the upper right corner means they've manifested an ability, clicking on the slash marks will pull up a bio on the person in question, including a breakdown of their ability. If the double slash is in the lower left, however, it means that, although there's reason to believe that the person in question will manifest an ability, it hasn't been confirmed. If there's neither a border nor a double slash, the person in question is of interest to the Organization, but is not suspected of having the potential to manifest an ability."

With a few more quick commands, he pulled up the final surprise. "I don't fully understand the reasoning behind this one, but there are maps, blueprints and diagrams of every major public or private building as well as every public works in the city." He wasn't joking. As he paged through them, I saw maps and blueprints for hotels, apartment buildings, the sewers and subways, schools and public buildings. Everything in New York City was represented in the series of maps and blueprints. Also listed were all the pass codes, passwords and security codes you needed. Combining all that with the skeleton key I had found in the pen, you could get anywhere in the city easily and without being spotted.

After considering what needed done, I asked, "Is there anything in there that could pose a risk if left on the computer?"

"Nope, not a thing."

"Good, because here's what we're going to do: I want you to download everything on the stick onto the computer, securing it under the password," and here I grinned slightly at Marita, "_Mi__ Bella Loba_. Then the three of you can take the stick home and look through the information at your leisure." Glancing at my watch, I was a little surprised to see that it was a little after 5. "How long will it take to do that, Builder?"

After typing a couple commands, he pulled out the memory stick and said, "Done."

Hiding my surprise, I invited the three of them to dinner with Marita and myself. After a pleasant dinner, we went our separate ways. I took Marita for a carriage ride through the park, something she always enjoyed, and then we came home around 10. Following through on the rain check taken that morning, sleep was delayed for quite some time.


	13. Chapter 2: Part 4

**Part 4: Missing In Action **

Although the group of us continued to meet almost daily after that, nothing much happened. We continually discussed what we had learned, usually over dinner in one apartment or the other, but were stuck regarding what to do. It wasn't really that none of had the desire to do anything, rather it was the fact that there was no direction. We vaguely knew who, although that was still somewhat vague, but we lacked what, when, where and why.

As time passed, Marita and I mostly returned to life as we had known it before Ishmael's fateful call. We kept busy with work, but played hard as well. We went dancing several times, usually followed by dinner and a romantic evening. We took in a couple shows, including an off-Broadway production of _West Side Story_. (Afterward, she confessed that she had been offered the role of Maria at one point, but hadn't wanted to leave school to pursue it.)

As the days became a week, and as that week stretched toward two, we began to wonder if anything would happen to let us know what to do with the information we had gotten. That all changed on the last Friday of October, roughly a week before the election. I was sitting in the study area, working on the computer. Some time ago I had brokered a lucrative and difficult deal for a struggling tech company. Although they lacked the finances to pay my usual fee, they did offer to create a custom computer and third party sales program in exchange for my services. The computer was standard, with the exception of a touch screen, and more than one hundred Gigabytes of available memory. The program, on the other hand, was well worth the time put into arranging the deal. It was able to cross reference the goods and services clients offered with those other clients needed, saving hours of painstaking research. More importantly, it ranked the results according to satisfaction ratings system I created, listing the cost, as well as the time needed for completion of the order.

As I was attempting to match up a particularly unique and difficult order with a good provider, the phone beside me rang. Muttering under my breath, I picked it up and said, "Kemp here."

A businesslike, feminine voice came over the line. "Mr. Lucius Kemp?"

"Yes, that's me. How may I help you?"

"This is Rose Carlisle, executive assistant to Ms. Chandler of Butcher, Baker & Chandler."

"All right, I'm aware of the firm. It's where Marita, I'm sorry, Miss De Contego works as a paralegal. Again, what can I do for you?"

"Yes, sir. Miss Marita went to the courthouse earlier in order to research and draft a motion Ms. Chandler needs, and she hasn't returned."

Leaning back in my chair, I massaged my temples as an inexplicable feeling of dread started to form. "I'm still not certain I understand, ma'am. She's talked of her job some, and it's my understanding that these motions can sometimes take several hours to fully research and draft. Isn't it possible that she's still in 'the stacks,' as I believe she refers to them?"

"We thought of that, sir. However, when we sent one of Ms. Chandler's runners to see what was taking so long…"

The feeling of dread suddenly solidified into a cold stone in my throat. "Wait a minute. What, exactly, do you mean when you say 'what was taking her so long'?"

"Well, sir, Miss Marita went to the courthouse around 9 this morning, and expected to be back in the office around 1. We sent the runner down to the court library around 3."

Glancing at my watch shifted the lump from my throat to my heart, which suddenly felt on the edge of an attack. "It's after 5 now."

"Yes, sir. According to the runner, the clerk saw Miss Marita check into the library, and begin her research. However, shortly before lunch she was spotted nearly running from the building, following a young man in an expensive suit. The runner said it must have been an emergency, since the clerk commented that it was the first time Miss Marita had left her notes and books scattered across the table."

The lump had now changed to a squeezing fist wrapped around my heart. "I still don't understand. If you knew she had vanished, why'd it take so long to call the number I can only assume was listed as an emergency contact?" I have never understood how I managed to stay calm and coherent.

"We've spent the last couple hours contacting every hospital, morgue and police station in the city, Mr. Kemp. It was only after we came up empty that Ms. Chandler had me call you. We were hoping that you might know what's going on."

And the fist clenched, seeming to completely stop my heart as I fully realized what Rose had been saying. "No, I… No… I have no idea… We were supposed to meet for dinner, but that's not… Not for a couple more hours… No plans… No emergencies." Sinking further into despair, I felt the tears start to fall down my cheeks as I realized that Marita was gone, and I was afraid I knew where. "Oh, God… Umm… Listen… I'll just… I'll make some calls… Do some looking around… Oh, God… Have you gotten in touch with her parents?"

"No, not yet anyway."

Thank Heaven for small favors. If they hadn't gotten in touch with Gerardo and Adela I could buy a little time. "I think her father had been having heart trouble. It's possible that the man she was following was a messenger saying that he had been taken to the hospital…"

"But we already checked the hospitals, she's not there."

"I know. Her parents don't actually live in the city, so I doubt they'd use a city hospital."

"Do you know which one they would use?"

"Not off hand. I'll call her cell and see if she's answering. If nothing else, I'll head out to their place and see if I can get any answers.

"All right. I'll persuade Ms. Chandler to hold off on any punitive action against Miss Marita for a couple days, but that's all I'll be able to do."

"That should be enough. I'll get in contact with your office as soon as I know anything."

"That would be appreciated." Rose's voice dropped in tone a little, and sympathy entered it when she finished with, "And let Miss Marita know that she's in my prayers."

"Thank you, I'll do that." Disconnecting the call, I set the phone down and proceeded to simply stare at my monitor for the next several minutes. Finally, realizing that I simply had no way of doing any more work that day, I saved my work and shut down the computer. Aside from the tears, there was no physical reaction to the fact that Marita had gone missing. Wandering into the bedroom, I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the oversized shirt she normally wore to bed loosely in my hands. I was staring blankly at it when the phone rang, nearly giving me a heart attack. Running across the room to pick it up, I nearly yelled out, "Marita?!"

A dry, quiet laugh issued from the receiver. "No, I'm afraid not Mr. Kemp."

"Who is this?"

"My name is unimportant, Mr. Kemp, and would do you no good. I believe, however, that you are familiar with my partner, a rather special individual who goes by the name Dan?" Apparently taking my silence as permission to continue speaking, he continued. "He was, shall we say, not most pleased with the way you and your lady friend treated him the other day. He was most especially unhappy with the rather rough handling he received at her hands. He is currently entertaining her in his own inimitable way." He paused as I heard a woman scream for help, in Spanish, over the background.

"So help me God, if she's hurt, then you, and everybody you work with, is dead! Do you understand me you lousy son of a bitch?"

The laugh came again. "Temper, temper, Mr. Kemp. Isn't that what landed you in the psychiatric ward earlier? It'd be a real shame to wind up there again. Anyway, she's not physically injured. No, with my partner and the unique gift he possesses, physical assault and torture are crude and unneeded." As another scream, this one of terror, sounded in the background, he laughed again. "My, my. Who would have guessed that she, who has no children, harbors a deep and abiding fear of watching her children die?"

"BASTARD!!!"

"I'm afraid you really must calm down, Mr. Kemp. I'm certain that the situation here is painfully obvious. We have something you want, Ms. De Contego alive and unharmed, and you have something we want, namely yourself."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's really quite simple, friend. We were ordered to bring you in to see our boss. When you grabbed Dan, we realized that a direct confrontation wouldn't quite work out the way we wanted it to. So, over the past few days, we hatched this new technique. I believe the crude term is kidnap for ransom. We'll give you until Wednesday."

In a combination of disbelief, outrage, and a desire to get more information, I made my voice as hostile and angered as I could. "Why on earth do you think I'll do anything you want?"

The laugh came again. "It's really quite simple. My partner, Dan, and I have a small wager on this particular situation. His position is that you'll do anything you can to weasel out of turning yourself into us. He seems to believe either that you don't care for the lady as much as she thinks you do, or that you'll somehow try and free her without coming to us. I, on the other hand, believe you to be much more reasonable. I think you'll do anything, including sacrifice yourself, to protect her. The wagers are fairly simple. My bet is that she goes free if you do what I think you will. On the other hand, if you're not outside Manhattan's subway stop five, near City Hall, no later than 11:30 PM next Wednesday, then Dan gets to kill your girl. The choice is yours, Kemp." With that final comment, the line disconnected.

Staring at the phone in my hand, I was unable to put together a rational thought for several minutes. Finally, the nagging thought in the back of my mind came to the front, and I realized that I might have gotten the slip I wanted. Gently laying Marita's nightshirt on her side of our bed, I went to the computer in the living room. Turning it on, I typed in _Mi__ Bella Loba_, and waited for it to finish booting up with the protected information. As it did so, I picked up the phone and pulled Ishmael's card out of my wallet. Dialing the number, I waited for the other line to connect. Before Ishmael's voice could begin to speak, I said, "We need to meet. All of us. My place, if possible."

After a brief pause, Ishmael's voice said, "One hour," and disconnected. Then I was left with my aching heart and racing mind, hoping I was really seeing a plan form.


	14. Chapter 2: Part 5

**Part 5: Recon **

I spent the next hour doing my best to control both the fear I was feeling for Marita as well as the murderous rage that was building. I had always felt believed that strong emotion, although it has its place, is the enemy of logic and reason, both of which I knew I was going to need. Having finally, albeit temporarily, mastered them, I began searching through the maps previously contained on the memory stick we confiscated from Daniel. Locating what I was looking for, I started printing them out. So involved was I on what I was doing that the last of the hour passed without my knowledge. The knock on the door came as an utter shock until I glanced at my watch. Leaving the printer to run off the last pages, I backed out of the program and went to the door.

As we sat down, Ishmael asked the first question. "What's the emergency?"

As I was starting to explain what had happened, the Dark Lady interrupted. "Where is the Shield Maiden?"

Sinking into the overstuffed chair I had reluctantly sat in, I forced a sense of calm and control into my voice that I didn't feel. "That's the emergency, actually."

Ishmael leaned forward. "Explain."

Closing my eyes against the tears I felt coming, I started talking. I told about the phone call from her law firm. Moving on from there, I relayed, nearly verbatim, the call I had received from Dan's partner. Hearing a quiet gasp, I looked up. The Lady and Ishmael were sitting together, hands clasped between them. I read horror in her eyes, and rage in his. The gasp, however, came from Builder. Catching me looking at him, he asked me what I was going to do.

"That's the problem, really. I just don't know." Swallowing against a lump in my throat, I continued. "I know that I can't turn myself over to them. First, I sincerely doubt that I can trust them to honor their word to release her. Secondly, of the two of us, I am better equipped to come to the rescue, which she is no doubt expecting. Third, but most important, I know what she'd say if she thought I was even considering ransoming her by giving myself up."

Ishmael peered at me for several minutes, before he broke into a grin. "So, what's the plan?"

Standing up, I went to the computer and grabbed the print outs from the holder. Giving them to Ishmael, I sat back down. "I'm not really certain what type of plan to make. I knew when the guy told me to meet him at stop five near City Hall that the location sounded vaguely familiar. After he got off the phone, I called you and immediately started looking through the maps we lifted off Dan. That's when I found what you see there. It looks like there's a secret door under the platform there. If I read the map correctly, there're a couple, maybe five, miles of tunnel on the other side of the door, leading to what looks like a good sized bunker.

After glancing through the maps, he handed them to his wife. "Even assuming your right about all that, there are still several major problems. The first, and most problematic, is that, even if it exists, we don't have a clue how to open the door."

Before I could even begin to reply, the Dark Lady lifted a hand and interrupted. "Ishmael, Light Warrior, it is too late right now to even begin to plan." Glancing at my watch, I realized that it was now about a quarter after 8. "Warrior, you do have a second bedroom here, don't you?"

Confused, I admitted that we did and told her where it was. Turning to her husband, she said, "I need you and Builder to go home and pack what we need to stay here until at least the fourth of next month."

As Ishmael and Builder stood up to go, I started to object. I didn't get much further than opening my mouth before the Lady interrupted again, this time with a slight smile at my confusion. "Don't waste your time objecting. You have the room Ishmael and I can use, and Builder can sleep on the sofa. While they're gone, I'll make a quick dinner for the four of us. The truth is that we need to stay together from here until the end. If they've started actively trying to collect you, and are willing to sink so low as to abduct loved ones in an effort to aid in the collection, none of us is safe alone." With that she stood, gave her husband a quick but intimate kiss, gave Builder a quick hug and went to the kitchen.

This effectively left me alone, since the Lady spent the entire time they were gone working in the kitchen. I made sure that the guest bed was made, and that the guest bath had the necessities. Taking a couple spare blankets and pillows, I stacked them by the sofa for Builder to use later. Turning on the TV, I caught the last hour of a nature documentary while waiting for the other two to return. When they finally did make it back, it was a little after 9 and she had finished dinner just moments earlier. Moving into the dining room, we ate a decent, if simple, evening meal.

Conversation during the meal was extremely limited, since nobody really had anything to say. Shortly after finishing the meal and helping clean up, I went to bed. I didn't really feel tired; I just needed to be alone. Lying in bed, I automatically reached my arm across to where Marita should have been laying next to me, but grabbed only the night shirt I had laid there earlier. Bringing it to me, I inhaled her fragrance. As if it were a key, the mingled scents that belonged to the woman I loved unlocked the tears I had struggled so hard to keep under control. Weeping, I swore that I would find her and kill whoever tried to stop me, and then I slept.

I didn't wake up until around noon the next day. Forcing myself to shower and dress, I went out into the living area where I found myself to be the last one up. The Lady pushed a cup of coffee into my hands, and told me that the fixings were out for sandwiches if I was hungry. Ishmael had already been down to Mike's stand to buy the papers, including a couple I didn't normally read. After approximately half an hour, I made a sandwich and grabbed the maps I had printed out yesterday. As I was looking over the specific area with the supposed secret door, I felt the Lady come up behind me. Resting a hand on my shoulder, she said, "Have you made a decision yet, Warrior?"

Glancing over my shoulder, I was reminded again of how stunningly beautiful she was. Unfortunately, that reminder cut through me like a knife, primarily because I was desperate to find Marita. Looking back at the map, I swallowed the bite I was working on, took a quick drink of coffee, and said, "I think so. I need to talk to Builder for a minute. You and Ishmael will probably want to hear what I have to say."

When she came back, Builder looked confused and Ishmael looked concerned. Without preamble, I spoke directly to Builder. "If it's okay with them, I think I need you with me on a little recon shortly."

Ishmael didn't even wait for Builder to look at him. "What are you planning on doing?"

"The only way I'm going to get Marita back, and to deal with the bastards that took her, is to find a way in." Pointing to the door and tunnel on the map I continued, "At the moment, the only way in I can see is through that door."

Ishmael looked at the map. "I still say what I said last night. The first problem, but not the last by a long shot, with that idea is the simple fact that, even if it does exist, we have no way of knowing how to open it."

Looking directly at Builder, I temporarily ignored what Ishmael was saying. "Builder, have you discovered a limit to what your ability allows you to do?"

Understandably he sounded hesitant when he replied. "Not yet, I guess." Stopping for a moment, he blurted out, "But I have to know exactly what I need done before I can make something to do it."

With a slight grin, I nodded. "Alright then." Turning to Ishmael, who had taken a seat across the table from Builder, and beside his wife, I began to explain my rudimentary plan. "The problem right now is simply that we don't have the information we need. The fact that it's listed on the maps is a strong hint that the door does, in fact, exist. The problem, as you've pointed out, is that we don't have the slightest clue how to open it. That's why I need to take Builder along with me, as well as this." Pulling out my wallet, I slid out the strange ID badge that had been sewn into Dan's suit jacket. 'If I'm right, this badge is all I'll really need anyway."

The Lady looked across at me and put the question into words. "If that is so, why do you need Builder?"

"Because of the distinct possibility that I'm wrong. If that badge doesn't act as a key, I need Builder to figure out how to open the door. I could brute force it, I suppose, but I think we'd all prefer to be a little quieter than that."

Builder had remained silent throughout. Finally he looked at Ishmael and the Dark Lady. "I know you don't really want me to do this. To be blunt about it, I'm not really happy with the idea myself. But, Light Warrior's right. They've got the Shield Maiden, and he doesn't really dare turn himself over to them. If I can help, I want to. If that means going with him this time, then I'm willing."

They were silent for several minutes before Ishmael spoke. "Can you guarantee that he'll be safe?"

Restraining most of a snort, I stated, "Safe? I can't even guarantee that _I'll_ be safe. I'll do everything I can to keep us safe, including keeping us both invisible. And, if something does happen, I'll do whatever it takes to get us away from them."

Ishmael started to reply, but the Lady spoke first. "That's all we can ask." Turning to Ishmael, she explained. "This is something that needs done, love. Remember, Light Warrior is our fighter. As such, we need to trust him when it comes time to prepare for battle. Also, Builder must go. If he can help, and if he wants to help, we cannot stand in his way." Shrugging in defeat, Ishmael satisfied himself with a grunt of displeasure. As he left the room, the Lady looked back at me. After asking Builder to wait in the other room for me, she began to explain what Ishmael's problem was. "Builder is more to us than just a child who sleeps in our spare bedroom. We found him living on the street a little over a year ago. Taking him in, we cared for him and learned his life's story. Although not as tragic as yours, he has had hardship of his own. Last October my husband and I entered the foster care system and became foster parents to him. We have come to love him as our own son. It is that which Ishmael, and myself to a lesser extent, is struggling with." With a sad smile she finished, "We know, and have always known, that we cannot protect him forever. But, to knowingly risk him is something we hoped not to be forced to do."

Taking her small hand in my own, I swore, "If something happens and he is unable to return, it will only be because I am also unable. You have to know that. If it is at all possible, he will come back."

Ishmael had approached behind me without me hearing him. When I felt his hand on my shoulder, I nearly left my skin. "I know that, Warrior. I don't necessarily like it, but I do know it."

Heading into the living room, I had Builder stand against the wall. "Listen, this isn't going to be easy. For some reason you are able to see while invisible, although I've never been able to figure out why. However, not a single one of the helps you are used to, peripheral vision especially, will be of help when invisible- you can't see yourself at all. What I'm going to do is to turn you invisible here, where nothing important is riding on it, and let you practice just walking across the room." With that, I concentrated and bent the light around him, rendering him completely invisible. The first few times he tried to walk across the room he had problems. He bashed his leg a couple times, even managed to fall over a couple of the chairs.

At the end of an hour he was finally able to move, although slowly, around the room without hurting himself or nearly breaking anything in the room. That was when I decided it was time. Unbending the light, I made him visible again, and we said our goodbyes. As we headed to the subway, I detoured us into a crowded restroom and flipped the light around us before we left, having become completely invisible.

Exiting the subway at stop 5, I was holding and guiding Builder firmly by one arm. Checking the overhead, I saw that we had four minutes until the next train came. Working our way through the crowd, remaining invisible, I brought us to the front of the platform. Guiding him down to his knees with me, I stretched out on the platform and felt under it. There was a gap underneath it, although there was no real way to know how much of a gap it was. Looking back up, I realized that we were down to two minutes thirty seconds. Risking a quick peek under, I saw that there was plenty of room. Pulling Builder over, I quickly told him to count to ten and flip under the platform, right where I had his hand, avoiding the third rail. As I heard him begin counting, I flipped under myself.

As soon as I landed, I closed my eyes and shifted my vision into the infrared spectrum. Looking around, I saw nothing. Not entirely trusting that, I did a quick shift into the ultraviolet. Again seeing nothing, I shifted back to normal. Hearing a quiet thud behind me, I turned around. A whisper sounded from near me saying, "Warrior, where are you?" Pressing against the wall under the platform, I unbent the light, making myself visible. Once I felt him grab my arm in desperation, I unbent the light around him as well. Putting a finger to his lips, I let him know we needed to be quiet. At that moment, the subway train arrived, giving us both a heart attack.

Extending my right hand, I concentrated a little light around it, giving me an improvised flashlight. Looking around I saw the door, right where it was indicated to be on the maps. Moving up to a small box beside the door, Builder began investigating it. Turning to me he signaled for the id badge we had brought. Looking at him closely, I handed it over. Instead of trying to use it, he simply looked closely at it, feeling along a couple spots on it. Handing it back over, he looked at the box again, tracing a couple lines along it that I could hardly see.

From my position I could clearly hear the brakes release on the subway. "Better grab one of the braces, Builder."

"Why?"

"Because in about five seconds, that train is going to take off. If we're not holding something strong enough to keep us in place, we could go along with it."

"Right." After a quick, although short, look around, we both grabbed braces that seemed to be anchored in the wall.

As the train left, it felt like a small windstorm under the platform. Finally it was gone and I signaled Builder to get back to work. Instead, he favored me with a small grin. "If we have enough time to get out of here before the next train, we can go back to your place."

"Why?"

"We have everything we need, but I think a plan would be good."

"All right, wait a minute." Concentrating again, I unfocused the light around my hand, effectively turning the "flashlight" off, and bent the light around me again. Sneaking back out from under the platform, elbowing myself over the top, I saw that the overhead was listing another six minutes until the next train. Slipping back down, I grabbed him by the elbow and bent the light around him as well. Making our way back out and up top, we waited in front for the next train to come. Remaining invisible while in a crowded train was difficult, but we managed it. After deliberately missing the next three stops, we left the train. Stepping into a very crowded restroom again, I made us visible, after looking around to see that nobody was looking our way. Then we took the next train headed toward my place. We finally made it back into my loft around 6.


	15. Chapter 2: Part 6

**Part 6: The Plan**

As soon as we were safely back, I took a couple migraine pills and washed my hands. Looking down, I found myself grateful that I had thrown on an old pair of jeans and a junk shirt that morning, since they were both now covered in filth from under the platform. Changing into a pair of khakis and a polo shirt, I washed up and went into the living room.

Builder had also taken the time to clean up, and was now seated nursing a glass of orange juice while flipping the ID badge idly between his fingers. As I sat down, he looked up and grinned. "Before we start planning, how on earth did you manage to move so fast and easily while we were invisible? It was all I could do to stay on my feet and keep up."

Accepting the coffee the Lady brought as she and Ishmael went to the sofa, I returned the smile. "Practice, believe it or not. When I was a kid, the first part of my ability that I discovered was invisibility. Since it was useful, I thought it best if I knew precisely how to use it, which meant knowing how to move while invisible. Given the situation at home, I was quite familiar with the woods outside of town, and knew where there was a good sized clearing I could use where I wouldn't be disturbed.

"After taking several days to clean it out and set it up to my satisfaction, I began to practice. I had a small area that I kept completely free of obstacles. I practiced walking, and then running, and then various simple acrobatics while invisible there. Another area was a large obstacle course. I built in a couple swings, several jumps, and many other obstacles. I finally got to the point where I could traverse the entire thing while invisible without even stumbling." Unfortunately that particular memory led, as always, to another, less pleasant one. The smile dropped off my face as I half whispered, "That stopped the day my father tried to kill me." Taking a steadying drink of coffee, which seemed to be laced with just enough whiskey to be relaxing, I asked, "So, what made you decide to come back? Or should I ask, what did you find?"

Sitting up a little straighter, he tossed the card over to me. "Feel around the edges and corners, will you?"

Looking at him in confusion, I did as he asked. With a startled exclamation, I almost immediately felt what he wanted me to find. Now that I knew what to look for, I could barely see it. One corner was slightly bulkier than the others. It was by such a small amount that it was understandably missed when we had looked at the card earlier. Handing it over to Ishmael, I looked at Builder. "All right, I see it. What does it do? How does that help open the door?"

"You know about my ability, right?"

Nodding toward Ishmael, who was handing the card to the Dark Lady, I said, "He gave me some idea. I think he called it Intuitive Electronic Aptitude or something like that. Basically, you intuitively understand how electronics work, and can make them do pretty much anything you want."

"That's a pretty fair summation, although there's a bit more to it. Anyway, that's not important. What is important is that my ability allows me to see when two or more devices are made to work together, and I fairly quickly learn how to make them do so."

The Dark Lady looked up from her inspection of the card. Her beautiful green eyes narrowed in thought briefly. "What needs done in this case? And, once done, will it open the door?"

"It's simple, really. There's a small, nearly invisible, indention on the box by the door. Pushing the corner of the card into it will complete a circuit, which will cause a keypad to slide out and light up. Pushing the proper key sequence will unlock and open the door."

I looked closely at him. "Do you know the sequence, by any chance?"

"Sure. It was part of the same device, so I learned it at the same time. The code is 061443. Input it, and you're in."

I was more than a little surprised. "That's it?"

"That's it."

Jumping to my feet, I was halfway to the door, saying over my shoulder, "Let's go."

Ishmael stopped me. "No. Going right now is a bad idea."

Turning around, I gaped at him in total surprise. "Excuse me? What do you mean 'bad idea'?"

He looked up at me. "First, they'll be waiting for you to run to the rescue. They have her, and know you want to rescue her, and they'll expect you to go today. It's nothing short of a miracle you were able to do what you did. Second, you have no plan. Without planning it out, you'll fail. Third, it's too late to try it today anyway."

I wanted to fight. I wanted to argue. I wanted nothing more than to tell him to go to hell; that I was going to rescue Marita, with or without their help. The problem was that I knew he was right. At least, more right than wrong.

Returning to my chair, I said, "Fine. What's the plan?" I admit I wasn't overly gracious.

He looked at me with sympathy and said, "Believe me; I know some of what you're feeling. I think I'd feel much the same way if the situation was reversed. Right now, though, I think the best plan is to get something to eat. We'll be able to figure out some of it while we eat, and can go over it tomorrow." Looking first at me, and then at the Lady, he finished. "I don't think it's a good idea to go before Monday, but I don't think we should wait any longer either."

Monday. That meant tonight and Sunday night would be spent in a lonely bed, while they subjected the one woman I had ever loved to unimaginable indignities. I made a silent vow that if they hurt her in any way, and especially if they raped or humiliated her, every last one of them would die. "Fine. We'll work during dinner, and spend tomorrow planning. But, whether the plan's ready or not, I'm leaving here no later than 3 or 4 Monday afternoon. I will not leave her with them any longer than absolutely necessary.

The Lady cooked yet another decent meal, though not what I was used to. During dinner we discussed plans, and continued to talk over various contingencies until about midnight. When I retired for the evening, I approached the bed with dread. I knew that my sleep would be interrupted with nightmares of everything that could be happening to my lover at the hands of my unknown enemies.

The next morning I awoke around 8. After a quick shower, I dressed in casual clothing and headed into the living room. Everyone else was up and also dressed casually. The Dark Lady was serving a breakfast consisting of eggs, toast and sausage. Pouring myself a cup of coffee and a glass of juice, I sat down at the table. After breakfast was over, I helped her do the general housekeeping that I usually helped Marita with on the weekends. After that was done the four of began a serious discussion of plans and options over a cold lunch.

The discussion continued during dinner. We finished our plans around 1 in the morning. Going back to bed, I took a couple of sleeping pills to enable me to get a full night's dreamless sleep. I knew the day would be busy and long, and that I needed to be fully rested for my part. Setting the alarm for 1 in the afternoon, I crawled into bed and was immediately asleep.


	16. Chapter 2: Part 7

**Part 7: The Rescue**

Waking to the alarm, I took my time in the shower. Knowing what was coming, I knew that I'd need to be not only fully awake, but as relaxed and comfortable as possible. After drying off, I stepped back into the bedroom and began to pull on the outfit I had chosen for the day, feeling a fleeting smile as I remembered Marita's reaction the last time I had worn all black around her.

It had been one of the last dates before we decided to move in together. I had shown up at her place dressed in a pair of black slacks and a black polo. She took one look at me, swore in Spanish, and told me that she'd be damned if she went out with someone who belonged in a funeral home. Then she led me out to the car and directed me to Macy's, where she delighted in picking out nearly an entire wardrobe for me. The only choice she gave me was what size to buy. Right after I paid, she had me change before we went to the restaurant.

Heading into the living room, I noticed that I was the last one up and out, and that it was pushing 2. After pouring a cup of coffee I made a couple sandwiches and sat down in the living room. Looking around, I realized that the others were ready, with the possible exception of Builder who was off to the side working on something I couldn't see. The Dark Lady had chosen a pair of black slacks and a dark blue blouse, which she covered with a hooded black vest. Glancing at her face, I felt a momentary surge of jealousy. There was a suspicious glow to her cheeks. Glancing at Ishmael, who sat with her holding her hand, confirmed my suspicions. They had apparently taken the time, last night or this morning, to 'test the bed springs' as the saying goes.

Taking my mind away from that path, I noticed that he was wearing an outfit similar to mine; black jeans, sport shoes and a black pullover. The primary difference was that my pullover was hooded and he was wearing a watch cap. From what I could see, Builder was wearing a similar outfit, with a hooded sweater in place of the snugger pullover. I finished my meal in silence, lost in thought as, apparently, we all were.

After rinsing off my dishes, I went back to the living room and looked around. "Are we ready, then?"

After a quickly whispered conversation with his wife, who got up and started talking with Builder, Ishmael stood up. "Just about."

Before I had a chance to ask him what he meant by that, Builder came over with the Dark Lady, and handed out a batch of PDAs and what looked similar to Bluetooth headsets. As he handed me a set, I looked at him. "What are these for?"

The Lady answered, quickly hooking the PDA to her belt and slipping on the headset. "The PDA has a mapping feature, as well as a locator. Builder put in the maps we already had, but also installed a miniature scanner so we can get detail that is missing. They also transmit coded information that only the other units can decode, transmitting the precise location of each unit. The headsets are simple communication devices. We may find ourselves separated or otherwise needing to communicate with each other while outside of easy speaking range."

Impressed, I looked over at Builder. "Good thinking. What made you decide to build them?"

"It wasn't entirely my idea. I'd been working on this stuff for a while, mostly in my head. The Lady told me the other day to go ahead and get going with the PDAs, though, including the locator and mapping programs. The headsets were my idea though. I figured it might be nice to be able to talk without shouting."

Glancing at her, I raised my eyebrow as I slipped the pieces into place. Catching the look, and understanding the question, she shrugged. "You know what I can do. I didn't fully understand why we'd need them, but I clearly saw that they'd be important." Standing up, she smoothed her outfit with one hand while adjusting the headset in her hair with the other. When Ishmael stood with her, she continued. "The two of us need a little practice with invisible movement."

Over the next hour I kept them invisible as they learned the basics. Looking at the clock, I called a halt to the practice session. "All right, that should give you enough to go on. With any luck, assuming things go even partly according to the plan, we won't be doing any major movement while invisible. More importantly, we need to get a move on. It's pushing 4 now. As it is, it'll be midnight or later before we get to her."

Ishmael absently scratched the back of his neck while he thought about it. "I guess we should get moving. Is everyone's gear working?" After a few seconds of listening to everyone test their mikes and adjust the headset volume, we were ready. As we headed to the door, I heard Ishmael's voice in my ear. "Remember the plan." With a nod, I vanished.

After a walk of several minutes, we entered the subway. Being forced to remain invisible was annoying but unavoidable. We had decided earlier that I was the one most likely to be expected, which meant I was the one in the most danger. The good news was that my little light trick blocked me from all visibility; even the normal ways of seeing the invisible don't work on me. After what seemed an interminable ride, we finally exited at stop five. We had decided that there was no point in making things more complicated than they needed to be. The complications were likely to introduce themselves as we went along.

Ducking around a dark corner, we found ourselves briefly alone. The Dark Lady and Builder put up their hoods even as Ishmael put on his cap. Invisibly, I followed suit. Twisting the light so that they also became invisible, I looked around the corner. "According to the overhead, we have about five minutes to the next train, and another five between that one and the one following. That should be plenty of time. Once you're down there and against the wall, I'll make you visible again. Let's go."

Slipping around the corner, I worked my unseen way through the crowd, stopping at the lip of the platform. Crouching down, I reached down with both hands for a grip and flipped myself down and under. Crawling to the wall, I made myself visible and brightened the area up slightly. Closing my eyes, I discovered a hitherto unrealized side effect of using my ability to hide others. Although it took the greatest amount of concentration to bend and unbend the light, it still took a small amount to keep it bent. This meant that I could follow anyone I made invisible. Mentally, I tracked Builder and the Lady as they made it under the platform. Unsurprisingly, since he had been in this situation before, Builder was first, with the Lady shortly behind them. As they reached the wall, I unbent the light around them.

With a grin, Builder walked over to the door. "It gets easier every time, doesn't it?"

Smiling briefly, I nodded in agreement. I was following Ishmael's progress when I heard a small thud and his voice quietly swearing. Laughing, I went over to him and unbent the light around him. After bringing him over to the door, I slipped the hood up over my head and nodded to Builder even as I faded from sight. As Builder used the card and input the code. As soon as the door began to open, I shut down my light and slipped in ahead of them. Immediately behind me came Builder, with Ishmael following behind the Lady.

Looking around the area we had entered, we climbed from our knees to our feet. We were in the center of one end of a vast hallway, with a width of a good twenty-five or thirty feet. There was very dim lighting, and that was pretty much concentrated on the center of the hall. Watching the three of them slip to one side, I found myself relieved that the combination of the darkness of the sides of the hall and their own dark clothing, including black gloves that I hadn't put on yet, conspired to make them nearly invisible.

Jogging ahead, I let them know what I was doing. I stopped at the first intersection, approximately a hundred yards away. When I looked into the corridor and saw nobody, I keyed the mike and gave the go ahead even as I became visible. The next several hours were spent repeating the same basic sequence. The only variations came the handful of times the corridors were not empty.

In those instances, which only occurred about four times in our five mile journey, I would key the mike twice and freeze position. Twice, the people simply crossed the hall and entered the opposite corridor. Once, with the second group we encountered, they exited the corridor and simply stood there talking. Since they showed no inclination of moving, I slowly crept back the several yards to where my partners were waiting. Reaching them, I whispered what had happened.

Reaching a decision, I faded them out and we slowly walked forward. After passing the two, who were still standing and talking, we went several more yards before I made us visible again. Taking a moment to breath, we began our journey again. The only group that caused us real worry, though, was the last one we encountered.

As this group exited the corridor, they turned and walked right past me. As soon as they passed, I jogged to the other side of the hall and keyed the mike. "Don't move." As soon as I issued the command, I began running as fast as I could. Angling across the hall again, I came to a stop right beside Builder even as I threw them into invisibility. I managed to whisper a hoarse, "Don't talk," into the mike just before the group reached us.

After the group had gone beyond us and faded from sight, I unbent the light around all of us. I noticed that Ishmael's hand was at the small of his back, where I knew he was carrying the .45 we had brought, even as Builder was carrying the tranquilizer gun. Catching my look, he shrugged. "Can't be too careful."

The last mile passed slowly but without incident. Finally we found ourselves facing a considerably narrowed, probably no wider than ten or fifteen feet, and fully lit section of hall, ending in an unmarked door. The only feature on or near the door was a small keypad where the latch and handle should have been. Ducking back so I wouldn't be seen from the door, I shed my invisibility again, keying my mike as I did so. Relaying what I had seen, I finished with, "Come on up but stay out of sight of the door. I think we need a quick conference."

When they reached me, I simply had two questions. "Builder, if I can get you up there unseen, could you get the door open?"

After a moment, he nodded. "I should be able to. To be positive, I need to get a look at it before it needs opened."

Adding that to the plan forming in my mind, I turned to the Lady. "Same basic question. If I can get you to the door, do you think you could tell me whether or not anyone is either in there or even intending to enter?"

Also giving herself a moment to think, she nodded. "I won't be able to tell you what they're thinking, but I'll be able to learn that much."

"Good, here's the plan. The two of you will come up the hall with me. At the door, Builder will see what is needed to open it and the Lady will see if anyone's there. Ishmael, watch our backs. Okay?"

Getting nods from everyone, I took Builder and the Lady by the hands and faded the three of us from sight. Leading them up the hall, I let them do their work when we got to the door. After five minutes, I led them back and faded us in when we reached Ishmael. Looking at them, I asked, "So, what do we know?"

Builder went first. "Opening the door will be fairly simple. It's a two key system. The first key code unlocks the door, and the second one opens it. The trick is that you can't get it wrong or take to long inputting them. If either one happens, all hell breaks loose."

"I don't suppose you learned the codes while we were up there?"

"Sure. The Unlock code is 013151 and the Open code is 041856. The system has them in its memory so it can compare input codes to them."

"Excellent." Turning to the Lady, I gestured for her contribution.

"I obviously can't make guarantees that things won't change before we get in, but there was nobody there and nobody intending to enter."

Scratching my shoulder in frustration, I decided that was the most I could reasonably expect. "All right, I guess. So, I'll turn us all invisible and we'll head to the door. Once there, Builder will work his magic and the Lady will warn us if someone decides to check out the room." Stopping for a minute, I worked out the rest of this rather hasty plan. Turning to look at the Lady, I said. "You and I will go first. If it seems like someone is going to enter the room, squeeze my arm. We'll stop until the danger passes." Turning back to Ishmael and Builder, I continued. "You two will be right behind us. If you bump into us stop until we start moving again. Once you reach the door, input the codes and slip in. We'll be right with you. Once we're inside, I'll make us visible again and we can decide what to do from there."

Walking up the hall without incident, Builder input the codes quickly enough to satisfy the machine and we were allowed into the room. As soon as we were in, and the door was closed, I unbent the light around us. The Lady and I were against the wall beside the door, with Ishmael and Builder near us by the door. Along the opposite wall were a series of storage lockers, and there was another door opposite the one we had just used. Crossing to it, I looked through the small window set in it. Turning around, I addressed the Lady. "It looks like we're in the main bunker. Is it possible for you to find out where they're holding the Shield Maiden?"

Nodding, she crossed over to just beside the door and closed her eyes in concentration. While she was doing that, I walked up to the lockers, quietly asking Builder to join me. When he did so, I asked, "Can you tell if there's any extra security on these things?"

Closing his eyes for a minute, he ran his fingers lightly across them. A moment later, he reopened them. "Nothing I could find."

"Excellent." Digging out the skeleton key I had liberated from Dan, I proceeded to open all of the lockers. When I saw what had been revealed, I felt like I'd hit the jackpot. "Yahtzee!" I had uncovered enough weapons and ammunition to fight a small war.

Since the Dark Lady had finished her search, I began distributing weapons and ammo. Everyone who didn't already have one received a .45 loaded with a full magazine, as well as an additional four magazines, and handed a fresh magazine to Ishmael. I also handed out tranq guns to everyone but Builder, who already had one, and gave them another four special magazines, including a spare fresh one for Builder. Finally, I handed out combat knives to everyone. I took a double load, since I wanted Marita as fully armed as the rest of us when we found her.

Opening the drawers in the last locker, I found and handed out silencers for the .45s. In the bottom drawer of that locker, I found a pair of unusual gloves. Picking them up, I began to study them closely for several minutes. Finally I figured out what I was seeing. They were a special type of close combat glove that I vaguely remembered reading about some time ago, but had never expected to see. A basic physical description would take note of the bar across the palm, the barbed metallic plate that would cover the business end of a closed fist, and the oddly wider than normal forearm enclosure.

What that basic description would miss on those gloves is the express purpose of each of those items. The palm bar had two purposes. When a fist was formed around it and the bar was squeezed slightly, it would lock the fist into a specific position and release a catch on the barbed plate, which would than raise slightly. When that plate was depressed due to the force of a punch, twin blades would shoot out from either side of the fist. The blades were razor sharp and approximately six inches in length. They would eject and retract in the space of approximately one half second.

Sliding them on, I quickly learned that they weren't my preference, although Marita would probably love them. Turning back around, I looked at the Lady. "Any ideas on where she is?"

Pulling out her PDA, she called up the bunker map and, with a handful of commands uploaded the information to ours. Pulling mine out, I scanned the map as she spoke. "I wasn't able to get a precise fix. The best I could do was to locate the general area she's in. She's somewhere, probably toward the center, of the area colored in gray." The area she was describing was fairly small, when compared to the size of the bunker, but was still large enough that completely checking it would take a good chunk of time. As I contemplated the best approach, I felt her take my arm. Looking down, I found myself staring into her beautiful green eyes, intent but filled with concern.

"What's the problem?" For some reason, I was whispering.

"It's the Shield Maiden."

Steeling myself, I prayed I wasn't about to hear the worst. "All right."

Taking a deep breath, she moved on. "When I found her mind, I discovered some disturbing information. Her emotional state indicates that she's been under a fairly steady emotional attack, probably from Dan."

Eyes narrowing, I managed, "I sort of expected that. I don't plan on letting him get away with it. Your eyes tell me there's something else; what is it?"

"There were emotional markers I recognized from my time as a psychiatric therapist. You need to prepare yourself for the fact that she has definitely been physically, and probably sexually, abused."

Closing my eyes against what she had just said, I forced my thoughts to calm down. "Beaten and raped?"

Clenching her hand on my bicep she just nodded and said in a small, tear choked voice, "I'm very much afraid so."

Breathing deeply, I found myself unable to think. I started to run at the door, only to be tackled by Ishmael, who took the precaution of pinning my arms behind my back. After attempting to fight him off for several minutes, I calmed down enough to register what else the Lady was saying. "Now, more than at any time since her abduction, the Shield Maiden needs you to be calm and rational. Think, don't react. Follow the plan. Her one hope has been for you to come find her and rescue her. If you are caught, and you will be if you just burst into the hall, you will destroy that hope and kill her. Don't fail her."

Whether it was due to her ability, or to her time and training as a psychiatrist, she knew exactly how to calm me down. I may have failed Marita once by allowing them to abduct her, but I'd be damned before failing her again. Closing my eyes, I mastered the last of my rage, shoving it into a corner for when I'd need it. "All right. You can get off me now, Ishmael. I'm not exactly calm, but I'm at least rational."

As he released me and helped me up, I did some quick thinking. Taking out both .45s, I screwed the silencers onto the barrels. Checking their loads, I released the safeties and slid one of them back into its holster, holding the other one loosely in my hand. Fixing my eyes on it, I said, "I'm not asking any of you to follow my lead on this, all right? They've made this personal, and I'm going to react personally. They dealt the cards when they grabbed her, and upped the ante by hurting her. I'm calling the hand right now. Any of them that get in my way go down hard and permanent.

"So… Lady, as we get closer can you narrow the location down?" seeing her nod, I flashed an evil grin. "Shall we get going then?" As we headed to the door, I wasn't overly surprised to see that Ishmael was carrying his .45 as well.

Holding the gun at the ready, I slipped the door open and looked out. With nobody in the corridors, we exited the room. As before, I led the group with Builder behind me and the Lady being followed by Ishmael, who was partially guiding her as her eyes were partially closed in concentration. As we rounded the first corner we ran directly into a half dozen Organization personnel. As soon as they spotted us they opened their mouths, apparently to call for help.

On a hair trigger already, we gave them no chance to do so. Four of them died from shots fired either by Ishmael or me. Builder dropped the remaining two with his tranq gun. Knowing that time was now pressing, we didn't bother either to search or to conceal the bodies.

As we entered the area indicated by the Lady as Marita's general location, I realized that more encounters were now a guarantee. Popping open an unlocked room, I led us in for a quick conference. Scratching my chin as I talked, I kept an eye on the corridor. "This just isn't going to work. Dark Lady, between the locator and map on the PDA and your ability, could you guide me to where they're holding the Shield Maiden?"

After a moment's thought she nodded. "Yes."

"Excellent. Here's the revised plan, then. Lady, I want you to stay here out of sight. I need you to guide me to her from here. Ishmael, you stay with her. She'll need a guard, and you're best suited. Builder, I think you should come with me. I'll need someone to watch my back, and you were both fast and accurate with the tranqs earlier." Looking around, I noticed that Ishmael and the Lady were already concealing themselves behind some shelving in the far corner of the room. The area was dark enough that the clothing they were wearing, combined with their dark skin, made them virtually invisible.

Walking over to them, I gave them both a firm handshake. "Listen, I can't guarantee that Builder and I will be able to get back to this spot with the Shield Maiden, so I won't even have us try. Instead, I want you two to haul ass when you hear me say that we've got her. We'll meet you in the ammo room, hopefully no more than a few minutes behind you. Got it?" When they nodded, I grinned morbidly and turned to go. "All right, Builder. Let's head out."

Listening to the Lady's voice in the headset, we worked our way ever deeper into the bunker. Several times we made a fight of it. Builder count of unconscious targets climbed to better than a dozen, roughly equal my death total.

Finally I heard the words I was so desperate for. The Lady's voice came on and said, "The next door opens to her location. She's not alone."

Builder asked the question before I did. "How many with her?"

After a brief pause, she returned, "I only sense one."

Turning to Builder, I let all the rage and frustration I was feeling into my voice. "Keep any late comers off my back, but this one's all mine. Are we clear?" As he nodded, I led him at a run down the corridor to the next door. There was a small window set in the door, which allowed me a brief glimpse of the room itself.

What I was seeing was a small observation room that was apparently empty. Using the skeleton key again, I opened the door just enough to quietly squeeze in. Letting Builder in, I gestured that he was to stay by the now closed door and keep a look out. Turning to the observation window, I looked upon a sight that fanned my barely concealed rage to a white heat that made it difficult to even breathe, let alone think.

Marita lay tied, spread eagle, to a bed facing the window. Her clothing lay in a cut and torn pile in one corner. Her nude body bore bruising and cuts which attested to the force with which the outfit had been removed. Other bruising along her body hinted that the Lady had been right about the physical abuse, and the bruising on her breasts and pelvic area told me that the only woman I'd ever loved had been violently raped.

A man was in the room with her, caressing her breasts even as I made my initial study of the room. As I frantically looked for a way to open the door separating the two rooms, his hands moved to his belt. With a scream of unbearable rage, I released a beam of solid light, stronger than anything I had ever done before. It didn't so much break the observation window as disintegrate it. The beam flew directly over the man's shoulder, barely missing his head, and impacted the wall with enough force to cause cracks to form.

Leaping through the window even as the beam hit the wall, I slammed into the man as he began to turn around. Smashing him against the wall, I wrapped one hand around his throat and began to squeeze. Screaming curses in every language I knew them in, I began to slam my closed fist repeatedly into his groin, ribs and face.

Finally, after several minutes, I was able to regain control of myself. I slowly realized that he was no longer fighting against me, or even moving. Looking at what I held in my clenched fist, I was only vaguely able to recognize it as a human. The fighting gloves I was wearing had performed their task admirably. Dropping him in disgust, I stripped the gloves off as I approached the bed. From this close, I was able to see even more bruising on her face and torso. Taking the combat knife from its sheath, I grabbed the first of the ropes at her ankles.

Suddenly her eyes shot open. Unseeing, she began to moan in multiple languages, repeating the same basic series of comments. "God, no. Not again. Please, God, no more. Lucius, where are you?"

With tears in my eyes, I slid the blade between the rope and her ankle and carefully slit the rope. After freeing the first ankle, I moved to the other one. Once both ankles were freed, I moved to her wrists, which were tied so that her arms, while retaining the spread eagle position, were stretched out over her head. With even more care than I had exercised with her ankles, I slit the ropes from her wrists.

Stripping off my pullover, I laid it across her exposed breasts. Sitting at the top of the bed, I cradled her head in my lap, gently stroking her hair as I did so. Removing the single pillow they had given her, I attempted to cover her exposed pubic area.

Continuing to lightly stroke her hair, brushing it away from her face, I looked into eyes that were unable to see me, lost as they were in horrors within her own mind. I gently spoke to her, letting her know that I was there, telling her that she was safe, but mostly letting my love for her fill my voice and flood like light into the dark place she had been forced into.

My first ray of hope came, ironically, when her eyes first came alive with hatred. She started shrieking like a wildcat and slashing at my face and arms with her nails. I kept stroking her hair and talking to her, pausing only occasionally to protect my eyes from her nails.

Finally, after an unknown length of time, her eyes blinked open with complete recognition. Marita, my love, had returned to me. One gentle hand reached up to stroke the cheek she had just tried to shred. "Lucius?"

With a slightly pained grin, I said, "Yeah, it's me baby. Sorry I'm late."

She didn't laugh, or even smile, at the lame joke, not that I had expected her to. Instead, she levered herself so that she was seated in my lap. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she buried her head in my shoulder and began to weep; a choked, tearing sobbing that threatened to break my heart. Burrowing my face into her normally luxurious brown hair, I embraced her and began to weep with joy at finding her, combined with pain at what she was suffering and had suffered.

Finally her sobs quieted and we sat there holding each other for some time. Eventually she began to speak into my shoulder. "They hurt me, dear heart." Looking down, I found her eyes, lost again in memory, seeking out mine. I instinctively knew that, whatever she was going to tell me now, she needed nothing more than for me to be there. The time for retribution would come, but not now.

"They hurt me. They caught me by convincing me that you had been in a horrible accident, and were clinging to life. As soon as they had me out of the courthouse, they forced me into a limo. Before I knew what was happening, something was shoved over my mouth and nose; chloroform I'd guess, or something very much like it. When I came to, I was in here.

"That's when they called you. That guy, Dan, was in here and made me experience some of my worst fears." As she paused for a minute, I tightened my embrace when she shuddered. "No. I'm not ready to talk about that. I don't know that I ever will.

"That was Friday evening. They let me sleep for a little while, but I have no idea how long. It was just about the last sleep I've gotten. Fan came back several times, doing the same thing." Drawing another shuddering breath, she continued. "Finally he came one last time. He said something about having to go to headquarters, but that he had made arrangements to keep me from being 'lonely,' as he put it. He gave me one last waking nightmare and left.

"That was when the real nightmare began. Someone came in with a knife. I lunged at him, but he just backhanded me. He did it hard enough to temporarily stun me and knock me back onto the bed. The bastard tied me up and took his knife to my clothing. After he had removed all my clothing, he fondled me for several minutes before he began to beat me, slowly and methodically. The more I screamed and begged, the more he seemed to get off on it. Apparently he got tired of the foreplay because, after beating me for several minutes he dropped his pants and mounted me."

She suddenly pressed her face deeper into my shoulder and began a fresh round of weeping. "H-h-he r-r-r-raped me, Lucius. Not-not just once, but repeatedly. He-he-he's been here a lot. He-he seemed to enjoy being as violent and cruel as possible when he did me." Lifting her face slightly from my shoulder, she looked into my eyes. Her eyes were streaming tears, filled with fear and humiliation. "Actually, I could have sworn he was back, shortly before I felt and heard you calling me. He-he was getting violent and excited again. I could have sworn he said something about getting ready to use the knife on me. I thought he meant to kill me."

Looking into those eyes, I felt the rage beginning to build again. I also felt her shame and humiliation at what had happened. "Shorter than me? Built like a tank, with a single eyebrow covering both eyes? Light brown hair and a kind of dumb but mean look to him?"

The horror threatened to overwhelm her again as she nodded. Looking over her shoulder at the once human by the wall, I felt a primal joy at being able to relay this little piece of pleasant news to her. "I don't think he'll be bothering you, or much of anyone else, ever again."

Looking into my face in confusion, she turned her head to follow my gaze. As her eyes fell upon the lifeless corpse, I found myself slightly frightened by the look of absolute hatred and pure rage that came into her face. Her voice, normally beautiful with just the trace of an exotic accent became harsh and bitter. "Good!"

Suddenly slipping from the bed, she stalked over to the body, letting the items covering her nakedness fall to the floor. Limping, she kept walking until she was leaning against the wall, over the body. Out of nowhere she began to kick at the body, shrieking curses in English, Spanish and French at the same time. Boiled down their essence, her comments were a rolling tirade comprised of variations of, "Wanna fucking rape me now, you goddamn, cock-sucking, son of a fucking bitch?! Couldn't fuck me enough fucking earlier, could you? No, your fucking ass wanted to fucking fuck me one last fucking time! Thought it was a fucking riot, didn't ya, ya little fucking pig? WHO'S FUCKING LAUGHING NOW YOU MOTHER-FUCKING SON OF A FUCKING BITCH; YOU GODDAMN SACK OF FUCKING SHIT?!?! God, I wish you were alive so I COULD FUCKING KILL YOU WITH MY BARE FUCKING HANDS!!!"

As her voice raised and her language deteriorated, I was finally able to shake off the momentary shock that her rage had caused. Coming up behind her, I wrapped my arms around her and guided her back to the bed. At first she resisted, even attempting to claw my arms. Finally she yielded, and sat weeping at the edge of the bed. After holding her for several more minutes, the latest storm passed. Leaving her at the edge of the bed, I went over to the pile of clothes in the corner.

Everything was a loss. Her blouse, skirt, even her underwear and shoes had been destroyed in that bastard's hurry to get to her flesh. Looking around, I spotted the fighting gloves and the pullover. Grabbing them both up, I went back to her. Holding the pullover in one hand, I compared it to her measurements.

Sitting down beside her, I explained. "This looks like it'll be a little tight across your breasts. Do you think you'll be able to stand that, or do we look for something else?"

Looking in my eyes, she gently touched a couple of the larger bruises while she made her decision. "I don't think there's much choice. I watched you dig through my clothes over there, and nothing's salvageable. It'll be uncomfortable, but I'll wear it." Standing up, I helped her pull it on. Stepping back, I realized that we still had a problem. Although my torso was, for the most part, a little longer and bulkier, her breasts more than made up for it. In this case, I had been hoping that the pullover, which was a little long on me, would function as a micro-skirt for Marita. Unfortunately, it barely made it down past her belly button.

Scratching the back of my head, I did some quick thinking. "Damn! Okay, honey, can you stay here for just a minute while I-" I slowed and stopped as the fear and horror came back into her eyes.

Beginning to retreat back inside herself, she sat down and hugged her chest. "No. Please. Don't leave me alone. Please, not alone again."

Sitting down beside her, I gently embraced her and began a light rocking motion as I stroked her hair again, quietly whispering, "Shh. I'm not leaving. I promise. I'm not going to leave you alone, ever."

Slowly she came back to me again. When her eyes cleared, I tried a smile, but it didn't work very well. "So, are you ready to leave?"

"_Sí_."

"Good." Keying the mike open I said, "We've got her."

The Dark Lady's voice came over. "How is she?"

Grimacing, I admitted the truth. "Not great. Turns out you were right, on both counts. We can deal with that later though. Right now she's ready to go home."

"Excellent. We'll meet you at the entrance."

Raising my voice, I called, "Builder?"

He came from his position by the door and smiled at Marita. Catching her half-dressed state, he blushingly turned solidly toward me. "We leaving then?"

"Yes, but we'll be slightly delayed."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to force her to flash the entire damn world! The first person we run across that is approximately her size gets to donate his clothing!"

A sudden gasp caused us both to spin around, weapons drawn. Marita was on her feet, darting across the room to the corpse. Falling to her knees she began to rifle his pockets. "Son of a bitch! What the fuck did you do with it?" After several seconds, during which her search grew more frenzied, she gave a hiss of satisfaction as she withdrew a necklace from one of his pockets. Walking back to us, she commented, "The bastard was slightly more careful removing this than he was with everything else. I guess the little cock-sucker thought he could get some money selling it." Handing it over to me, she turned around and held her hair in one hand. "Can you put it back on me, please?"

Glancing at it before draping it around her neck, I realized part of why it was so important. Suspended from a delicate golden chain was a golden pendent. The pendant was cast in the profile of a wolf's head, and was set with diamonds, except for the eye which was a trio of small rubies. I remembered commissioning it right after we decided to live together. I gave it to her over dinner the night she moved in. Her face lit up beautifully when she unwrapped and opened the box, and she demanded that I put it on her immediately. After we got back, I found her way of thanking me for it particularly enjoyable.

Since that time, the necklace had only been removed, and carefully lain in the original case in her jewelry box, for bathing or a bare handful of times when a different piece was a better compliment to an outfit. After fastening the clasp, I took the fighting gloves from where I had dumped them and handed them to her. Pulling them on, she asked, "What are these?"

Nodding at the bloody mass by the wall, I said, "They're what did that to your attacker. Specifically, they're fighting gloves." Gently leading her toward the door, I gave her a rough view of how they worked. With a wicked grin and a noise in her throat that sounded almost like a purr of satisfaction, she finished pulling them on. As we reached the door, I took a minute to buckle the gun belt containing the spare .45, the tranq gun and the knife at her waist. I couldn't help wincing it reflected pain as I brushed some of the more painful looking exposed bruises. Looking at Builder, I nodded toward the door. As he looked out, I followed him with Marita.

Exiting the room, we began to take the quickest possible path to the entrance. We had been on the move for approximately ten minutes, perhaps fifteen, when we encountered the first group of personnel. Marita and I began firing at the same time, with Builder immediately after us. When it was over, I realized that there were a dozen bodies on the floor, all of them dead. Looking over, I realized that Builder had not been firing the tranq.

Catching my curious glance, he shrugged. "I saw what they did to her."

Glancing at the bodies again, I noticed that one of them was only slightly larger than Marita, and that another one had feet that were about the same size as hers. Realizing that we didn't have time for privacy, I stripped the pants from the one and the shoes and socks from the other and handed them to her. After she pulled on the pants, I helped her tighten the gun belt so that it helped keep them up. After she was fully covered, and the shoes were securely tied, we started to run, as best she could, down the corridors holding our weapons at the ready.

Although we were now able to cover ground faster, we also encountered more enemies, and not always at enough distance to make the guns feasible. After the first couple encounters like this, during which Marita saved our hide, Builder and I began carrying the knives in the hands not carrying our guns.

By the time we burst into the room just inside the bunker, we had left better than fifty fresh corpses, made that way by bullet and blade, behind us in the corridors. Our entrance caused Ishmael to jump to his feet with a startled, "What the hell?" The three of us couldn't help but laugh in relief.

Finally getting control of myself, I managed to gasp out, "Let's just say that there's a very limited amount of time left for us to remain somewhat unnoticed. As if my words were the cue they were waiting for, alarms started sounding. Swearing under his breath, Ishmael ran over to the exit and jerked it open.

After looking down the hall, he glanced over his shoulder at Marita. "We've got five miles to cover. Can you handle that?"

Looking directly into his eyes, she shot back, "Do I have a choice?"

Having crossed the room to look over Ishmael's shoulder, I squinted at something in the distance. Holding up a finger, I said, "Actually, I think you do." Crossing back to Marita, I gave her a gentle kiss and said, "Stay with them. They'll watch over you while I'm gone."

Starting to fade out even as I turned to go, I was stopped short by her grabbing my arm in a vice grip and shouting out, "No! Don't leave me!" Turning back around, my protests faded on my lips as I saw the despair and fear in her eyes.

"All right. We'll go together. Hang on." Gathering her in my arms, I held her close as I turned back around. "When you guys hear me give the all clear, come on down." Ignoring their protests, I turned us both invisible and shouldered past Ishmael into hall.

Several yards down the hall, I slid to a stop. Ducking to one side of the hall, I set Marita on her feet, keeping a firm grip around her waist. Pulling her to me, I whispered in her ear, "Hold on to me if you need to for security, but not my arms. I'll need them in just a minute."

I felt her arms brush my waist as she figured out exactly where I was. Suddenly, she spun in front of me, wrapping me in a terrified hug. Even as she buried her invisible face into my chest, the vehicle I had barely spotted from the door rolled into range. Counting the driver, the passengers, and the literal hangers on, there were most of two dozen armed men and women.

Lifting both arms, I began to send twin beams out with a precision and speed I had never before attempted. Within thirty seconds they were all dead, the last six or eight having only just begun to realize that there was something wrong before dying. Seeing nobody else around, I made the two of us visible. Speaking into the mike, which I had left on, I said, "It's clear. Come down. We're maybe one or two dozen yards out." Keying off the mike, I looked down at where Marita still had her face buried in my chest. Gently lifting her head, I said, "Sorry about the shock, baby. I didn't have time to explain." As she unclenched, I asked, "Do you know how to drive?"

Confused, she said, "Yeah, _papi_ taught me. Why?"

Leading her over to the transport, I said, "Because this is what's going to get us out of here faster than our feet." Rapidly dumping the bodies that had fallen in out of the cart, I glanced at the meters. "Excellent. This tub can hit twenty-five." Turning to Marita, I grinned. "Go ahead and get this crate pointed the right direction, hon. Once we're all in, floor it."

As she was turning it around, the others reached us. Ishmael had a look of cold fury on his face. "What in the HELL was the big idea behind taking off like that?!"

"Sorry. I didn't really have time to let you in on the plan. I do now. I saw this thing, kind of, from the door. I knew we had at least another two or three hours of walking ahead of us if we had to leave on foot. This thing is going to have us out of here in less than thirty minutes."

The fact that he was still upset with me was obvious, but we didn't have time to pursue it. Just as we started climbing into the transport, another patrol showed up. They numbered about twenty and came bursting out of the side corridor. Diving from my perch and making myself invisible, I had just time enough to shout out a warning before hitting the ground. I managed to fire off about a dozen rounds before I felt a burning pain down my side. Glancing up, I saw that the last of the patrol had fallen, so I made myself visible and surveyed the damage.

I couldn't see much, so I carefully removed my shirt and used it to wipe some of the blood off my side. A stray bullet had creased my ribs and slit through the top of the pants, ricocheting off the wall and going God knows where. Wincing in pain, I wiped the wound off some more and then tore the sleeves off my shirt to pad it with. Using the knife I cut the shirt into a series of bindings I used to tie the improvised pad in place. Looking around, I glimpsed a dead body whose shirt was about my size. Stripping it off, I stood up even as I slipped it on.

I was in the process of buttoning it up, realizing that it was a little snug, when Marita spotted me and ran the short distance. Spotting the crude bandage, her eyes widened in new horror. "You've been shot!"

Taking a minute to finish buttoning the shirt, I allowed her to drape my arm over her neck and guide me back to the transport. "Hurts like hell, to be honest, but it's just a graze. How's everyone else?"

"Builder took a bullet graze across the shoulder, and Ishmael lost a notch in his ear. Painful for both, but nothing serious."

Crawling into the passenger seat, I looked in back. A glance was all I needed to realize that we had been lucky. Catching the Dark Lady's eye as she was checking out Builder's shoulder wound, I asked, "Are we ready to go?"

When she nodded, I turned to Marita and gave her the go ahead. As the transport accelerated, I slipped another fresh magazine into my gun. Holding it in my lap, I kept an eye on the sides as we speed along. Within fifteen minutes, during which we encountered no more patrols, we arrived at the subway entrance.

Creating a little light for guidance, I opened the door and led them at a crawl under the platform. Holding Marita close, I said, "I'll vanish for a minute and check out the overhead for times." Catching the flash of fear in her face, I told Marita, "If you need to, you can come up to the front with me. I won't turn until the last minute." She thought about it for a minute and then shook her head. Giving me a quick, yet passionate, kiss, she crawled to the side of the Dark Lady, who wrapped a protective and comforting arm around her.

Moving to the front, I looked down the tunnel but couldn't see or hear anything. Turning invisible, I shouldered my way to the platform. Catching a glimpse of the times on the overhead, I immediately dropped and rolled under the platform again. Even as I finished the roll, a train roared up to a stop.

Turning myself visible again, I crawled back to them, rubbing a shoulder as I did so. "After this one leaves, there's a ten minute window before the next one shows up, and another ten after that. The good news is that there can't be more than twenty or thirty people up there right now. As soon as this train leaves, I'll turn us invisible. Due to the fact that she's had no practical experience at moving while invisible, I'll take care of getting the Shield Maiden up there and back to the corner we started all this in. The three of you go ahead and get there as best you can.

Taking Marita by the hand, I led her to the front, with the rest following on my heels. Placing a hand on the small of her back, I waited for the train to leave. As soon as it did, I rolled her over even as I turned us all invisible. Pulling myself up, I managed to lift her up as well. Taking her in my arms, I carried her back to the corner I had designated as the meeting point. Turning us visible, I continued to hold her as I tracked the others mentally. When they reached us, I set her on her feet and made the others visible as well.

Looking at my watch for the first time since starting this rescue, I realized why I was so tired. We had begun this around 4 in the afternoon, and it was nearly that in the morning. We had been on this mission for approximately twelve hours.

After a quick conference, I turned invisible and went with Marita as we all went into the restrooms. After washing up, we met back in the corner. Pooling our cash, we realized we had just enough for a couple cabs. Walking out of the subway, we walked down the street and began to hail a cab. Ishmael and the Lady went with Builder in the first one; I went with Marita in the second. We exited the cabs about a block from our building. Exhausted, we stumbled into the loft around 4:30 in the morning.


	17. Chapter 2: Part 8

**Part 8: The Aftermath**

Upon entering the bedroom, Marita's first stop was the shower. Due to a combination of her horror at the thought of being, even temporarily, alone and my unwillingness to let her out of my sight, we showered together. There was nothing sexual about it this time; it was merely a mutual cleansing and a renewal of our intimacy.

As we washed each others hair, which we had done many times before, the water and shampoo mixed with the tears running down my face as I was treated to my first close look at what the bastards had done to her. Gently guiding her under the warm spray, I put some of her favorite body wash on her loofah sponge and washed the grime and blood from her body. As I gently washed her face and neck, and her arms, torso and legs, I winced each time I encountered a bruise or cut. As I allowed her to wash me as I had washed her, I felt her delicate hands clean out the wounds I had willingly received in rescuing her, and knew that my tears were not the only ones being shed. At one point she turned her back to me and subjected herself to a rigorous cleansing of her genitals, mumbling about wanting to remove all trace of her attacker. I was forced to simply rub her back and wish I could take all of her pain, everything that had happened to her, and make it my own.

After the shower was over, we engaged in an extremely rare act of intimacy. Marita lathered and shaved my face and neck, and I reciprocated by carefully shaving her legs. Afterward we washed off each other's more serious wounds and, applying antiseptic ointment as needed, bandaged them as well. I concentrated on the rope burns on her ankles and wrists, while she concentrated on the bullet wound I had been given while escaping through the hall, as well as a single graze across my upper arm that I had not noticed until we entered the shower.

After dressing for bed, she crawled into the bed as I shut off the lights. Almost immediately, she began to panic. Flipping the lights back on, I saw her sitting ramrod straight in the bed, nearly white and shaking. Going over and sitting beside her, I took her in my arms and held her. After several minutes she began to relax into my arms. Finally she crumbled against my chest and began to weep. For most of an hour we sat that way; me holding her tightly as she wept, washing some of the poisons from her soul.

Ultimately the storm of her weeping subsided. As the tension slowly faded from her body, and her breath deepened and evened, I looked down into her face. Gone were the lines of worry, of pain and fear. She had fallen asleep, and was once again the woman I knew her still to be, somewhere inside the hurt. Gently shifting out of the way, I lay her down. Drawing the blankets over her, I bent over her sleeping form and, in a gesture I rarely use, kissed her sleeping eyelids.

Shutting off the lights, I set the alarm and slid into bed beside her, falling asleep almost immediately. The night passed fitfully. Worry over Marita kept my sleep from being as deep as it could have been, and her recent memories brought nightmares. She'd wake up nearly screaming, panting, pale and shaking. On those occasions where I was not already awake, her waking would wake me as well. Sitting up in bed, I would reach over and enfold her in a gentle, yet tight, embrace, doing all that I could to let her know that I was there and that the real nightmare was over.

When the alarm woke us up, I found that we had finally fallen asleep while in one of those comforting embraces. Brushing her hair away from her face, where it lay on my chest, I smiled as her brilliant amber eyes opened sleepily, for a few wonderful moments free of any trace of fear or horror. As I sat up, she reached one hand behind my head and, tangling her fingers in my sleep tousled hair, pulled me down again. Our lips met in a kiss full of love, passion, desire and hope, flavored slightly by the tears we had both shed over the course of the night.

As she released me from the kiss, she whispered in my ear, "I knew you would come for me. _Gracias mi amigo_,_ mi amor_."

Reaching a decision, I kissed her again and slid from the bed. Throwing on my robe, I shut off the alarm. Under cover of this, I slid my hand into my dresser drawer and slipped something into my pocket. Climbing back into bed with her, I gathered her back in my arms and smiled as we lay there together, doing nothing but enjoying each other's embrace, keeping the demons of the last three days at bay.

Finally I slipped the item out of my robe's pocket and let it rest at my side, concealed from her partially closed eyes. The speech I had so carefully planned for this moment had treasonously fled from my mind. Drawing a breath, I began to speak from the heart. "You know, I had this amazing plan in mind. We'd go out for an evening walk, maybe even a romantic carriage ride, through Central Park. Maybe we'd spend some time dancing, although not necessarily. I knew we'd have this amazing romantic dinner at a quiet restaurant I know of in the old city. After we'd eaten, I'd give you this little speech that I'd spent weeks."

Glancing down, I saw her face tilt up to gaze at me, confusion mixed with a hint of suspicion in her eyes. Bending down, I kissed those inviting lips for a couple minutes before continuing. "The truth is, though, that none of that seems to be as important now." With tears that were as much from fear as from love, I slipped the tiny hinged box beneath her hand that lay across my stomach. "The fact is, I was just given a picture of life without you, Marita, and it almost killed me. I never want to go through that again."

The confusion fled from her eyes as the suspicion hardened toward certainty. Sitting upright, she held the box lightly in one hand, while the other, shaking with emotion, lifted the hinged lid. Her face paled and her eyes welled with tears as she saw what lay within. Nestled on a cushion the color of pearl was a ring. The band was a narrow fantasy of braided silver and gold. On the face, designed so that it gently rode the contour of the finger, was what resembled a stylized S, lying on its side, with three hash marks extending from it. The design itself was of gold, set with better than twenty diamonds.

Holding the box in one hand, the other flew to her mouth as she slowly sank against the headboard and turned to me, giving me a look I couldn't quite interpret. Drawing another deep breath, I plunged on. "I know, with everything that's just happened, that now might not be the most appropriate time for this, and I apologize for that; will you consent to marry me?"

I watched in hope and a little fear as her eyes flickered from my face to the ring and back again, tears beginning to fall from the corners. Just as I began to fear that she would reject me, her hand flew out and grabbed a fistful of robe. Yanking me over to her, she engaged me in the type of kiss that made me grateful I was not standing, since my legs had suddenly been turned into a jelly-like substance. Sinking the rest of the way to the bed, she wrapped her arms in a vice grip around my neck and drew me down with her, never relinquishing the kiss.

After several minutes she rolled us over, still kissing, so that she was astride me. As she sat up on her knees, she laid the ring box on her pillow. Sensing what was coming, I began to undo the buttons on her night shirt, even as she slid my shorts and then my robe off. Instinctively knowing what she needed as much as what she wanted, I gave her total control of our love making, taking my cues as she gave them. Afterward, as she lay atop me, she granted me with yet another fierce and deep kiss and murmured, "_Gracias_."

With my eyes closed, I enjoyed the feeling and the warmth of her body lying with mine, skin on skin. After she broke the kiss and began to graze on my throat, I was unable to stifle a slightly irreverent comment. "So, was that a 'Yes'?"

With a laugh, she grabbed the box and sat back up on her knees. Dropping the box on my chest, she imperiously thrust out her hand. "Put it on!"

Laughing, I said, "Yes, ma'am." Removing the ring from the box, I gently took her left hand and slid the ring into place on her finger. Placing my hands on her hips, I watched in loving amusement as she sat transfixed by the ring for several more minutes. After coming down to kiss me yet again, she laid her head on my chest and glanced at the clock. "_¡Ay Dios!_" Rolling off me, she slid to her feet beside the bed. "We need to get clean and dressed, _mi corazón_."

Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of the time. The alarm had done its job by waking us up at 1, but it was now half past 4. Muttering a handful of curses under my breath, I followed her into the shower. After a shower that was somewhat shorter, and considerably more erotic, than last night's mutual cleaning, we picked up the clothing that had been dropped and scattered through the room. Putting what little was salvageable in the hamper, limited mainly to what had been worn to bed and my black pullover, we threw the rest away.

After doing that, we dressed. Marita sat down on the bed to put on her undergarments, temporarily distracting me from my search for proper attire. As she slipped on the hose and stood up to smooth them out, attaching them to the garter belt, she caught me watching her. Rolling her eyes, she sauntered to the closet, lightly dragging her nails across the base of my throat as she passed in front of me. After searching through her clothing for several minutes, she pulled out a flowing skirt of deep crimson and an accompanying blouse, ivory in color. As she laid the outfit on the bed and proceeded to dress, I took my turn at the closet, choosing a midnight blue suit and a dark, hunter green, full sleeved shirt.

After getting dressed, I slipped the suit coat back on the hanger and placed it in the closet. Pulling out a black pair of loafers, I sat on the edge of the bed to put them on. As I did this, Marita flipped through a rack of belts in the closet, finally choosing a medium width, black belt with a maroon Navajo pattern on it and fastening it around her waist. Selecting a pair of dark flats, she slipped them on and sat in front of her vanity, beginning to do her hair and makeup.

After slipping into the bathroom, I ran through the standard morning routine. After brushing my teeth, I splashed on a little cologne while rinsing. Finally, I ran a brush through my hair and reentered the room. Marita had finished her hair and makeup, and was standing up from the vanity as I came in.

Stepping over to my dresser briefly, I slipped the mate to Marita's ring out of the drawer and showed it to her. After explaining the meaning behind the rings, I laughed as she insisted on slipping it into place on my finger. Her response was a mock glare and playful slap on my arm. Running her fingers through my hair, she gave me a kiss and turned to go.

When I stayed behind in order to enjoy watching her walk, a view I've always enjoyed, she stopped. Laughing, she took my hand and marched me out the door with her and to the living room. Following slightly behind and to one side, I could see the slight tenseness in the way she carried herself and in the set of her face; although I doubt anyone less familiar with her than I would have noticed it. She had, undeniably, come a long way just since last night, and was considerably better now than when we rescued her, but there was still a long road ahead of her. I mentally resolved that, whatever might come, she would not be carrying that burden alone.

Upon reaching the living room, she sat us down in our chair. Almost immediately, the Dark Lady came over with a cup of coffee for each of us. When we took the cups, she sat on the couch; legs tucked beneath her, and reclined into Ishmael's side. Draping his arm across her shoulders, he looked at me with a slightly knowing smile that caused inexplicable warmth around my collar. "So, what took the two of you so long?"

In answer, ignoring the implications of the question, Marita held up her hand. 'I was accepting my fiancés marriage proposal."

When everyone sat up for a better look at the ring, I noticed a knowing and slightly approving smile on the Dark Lady's face. Leaving the sofa, she came over for a closer look. Raising one eyebrow, she gently turned Marita's hand left and right to better see the design.

"It's beautiful." Sitting back down, she tucked her bare feet under her full bodied, dark violet skirt and smoothed down the scarlet blouse she was wearing. Pulling Ishmael's arm back over her shoulders, she reclined against him again. "It's a unique design, though. I don't think I've ever seen its like. What is it?"

Leaning back against me, Marita unconsciously duplicated the Lady's gesture and draped my arm over her shoulders, lacing her fingers with mine over her breast. Closing her eyes, she murmured, "I'll let you explain it to them."

With a small grin, I took a drink of coffee. "It's not really that difficult, and it stems from something my fiancée said a few weeks ago, right after I first met you three. She said something about us being two separate people, but being one entity; basically that we were one soul in two bodies. Thus, that was the idea I was looking for while looking for an engagement ring.

"When I couldn't find the ring I wanted, I commissioned a set." Flashing my ring at them, I continued. "It's unusual to have a male and female engagement ring, but it seemed to work with this idea. After sitting for several hours with the designer, this is what she came up with. The bands are braided silver and gold, but my band is exactly opposite hers. Where hers has silver, mine has gold and where mine has silver, hers has gold. The same is true for the face. Her design is gold set with diamonds surrounding a core of rubies, mine is silver set with rubies surrounding a core of diamonds.

"The design itself is simple, but exactly what I was looking for. Each design is representative of half a DNA molecule. If you were to take the design from my ring and match it with hers, they would make a single molecule. The engagement set becomes part of the marriage set as well. When we marry, her ring will be a woman's version of my engagement ring, and mine will be a man's version of her engagement ring."

Ishmael looked at me with curiosity. "You _commissioned _this design?" When I nodded, he asked, "When? I mean, you've been with us almost constantly over the past couple weeks."

Taking a last drink of my coffee, I set my hand in my lap, where it was greedily snatched in Marita's unoccupied hand. Smiling, I explained. "It actually happened several weeks ago, shortly after we met. Remember when Marita and I were supposed to go out with you guys for a few hours before dinner, but an important meeting with a client stopped me from coming, and I only just made it in time for dinner?" When they nodded, I continued. "Well, although it was an important meeting, there was no client. I spent that time hunting for the engagement ring. Since I couldn't find one, I went to Wedding Ring Originals on Lexington; actually, the same place I used for the wolf pendant I had made for her around the time we moved in together. That's where I sat with a designer and worked out the commission, and paid the deposit.

"A couple weeks later, just before," looking at Marita, where she lay half asleep against my side, I cleared my throat, "Well, before everything happened, do you remember me being a few minutes late to dinner again?" When they nodded, I finished. "I didn't actually have trouble finding a cab. I had picked up the rings and hidden them in the apartment before meeting you for dinner."

With a broad grin, Ishmael stood up. "I think this calls for a little celebration. We can hit the Triomphe for dinner and drinks, my treat." With that, he disappeared into the guest room.

Builder walked over to me, and asked, "Can I use your room to get dressed?"

Confused, I said, "Yeah, go ahead."

Marita's eyes had followed Ishmael out of the room, and held a slightly puzzled look. "I don't get it. I thought you had to make reservations at least a day, preferably two, in advance to be assured a table."

The Dark Lady flashed a smile. "You do. This table, however, has been reserved since Friday."

Looking over at her in surprise, I said, "Excuse me?"

Laughing, she explained. "After you called us, Warrior, when the Maiden was taken, I took a few minutes to try and find the future. What I saw told me that yesterday, Monday, was the first day with a chance of success in the rescue. Since I knew you would be unwilling to wait in the first place, and would refuse to wait longer than absolutely necessary, I also knew we'd have either succeeded or been dead today. Thus, I had Ishmael call the restaurant and make reservations; hoping that we'd be alive to use them in celebration of the rescue of the Shield Maiden. I had no idea that we'd be celebrating your engagement this soon."

Marita sat up and turned a slightly accusing glare in my direction. Her voice had a dangerous quality to it. "She knew?"

Shrugging, I looked back at the Lady. "I guess so, but I don't know how. I didn't tell anybody what I was planning."

Yet again, that laugh sounded. "Not in words, precisely, but you definitely told me. Your mind was screaming it in a combination of joy and fear. I never said anything, even to Ishmael, but I knew the night you made the commission and the night you picked them up. The only surprise about it was the date. I didn't look deep, since it was private, but your surface thoughts clearly indicated that you had a general idea of how and where, but not when, to ask."

Grinning ruefully, I shifted as Marita lay back against me again, capturing my hands, and admitted, "That's because I really didn't. I had a speech, and a general idea of the type of evening, in mind, but no clue as to when the best time to ask would be. To be completely honest about it, today was completely spontaneous. It didn't fit any of the half-formed plans I had in mind. But," stealing a glance at Marita's bruised but still beautiful face I smiled, "After being so afraid that I had lost her permanently, everything just sort of fell in place."

The Dark Lady smiled and fell silent for a minute. Standing up she began to collect the dirty dishes. Stopping by us, she said, "Can you help out with cleaning, Warrior?" Her eyes indicated that there was something more in her mind than simply cleaning the dishes.

"Sure, I guess." Looking at Marita, I asked, "Will you be okay alone out here, or do you want to sit in the kitchen and laugh at us working?" In answer, she stood up and held her hands out to help me up.

In the kitchen, the Dark Lady had Marita begin running water for dishes. Walking me over to the other side of the kitchen, presumably to wash the counter and collect a handful of dishes there, she talked quickly but quietly. "I don't even begin to understand it, but what you did for the Shield Maiden this morning was the best thing you could have done."

"The engagement?"

With a smile she glanced over her shoulder. "Among other things." Catching the blush on my face, she gave a silent chuckle. "The rough details were emanating rather loudly from the room, and neither of you were keeping control of your thoughts when you stepped out either. I try not to 'eavesdrop' on people's thoughts, but it's hard not to overhear when someone's shouting." Dropping off the pile she was building, she came back and picked up where she left off. "You seem to have grasped, instinctively, what sometimes takes years to drill into most people's heads about rape victims. The proposal indicated that you not only wanted her, but wanted her for more than her body. The engagement set told her that the proposal was not a sympathy gesture, because it was clearly specially ordered, which meant that you had been planning to do this for some time. The specific meaning of the design also told her that you took what she said seriously. When you gave her control of the lovemaking immediately thereafter, you returned to her the control over her body and sexuality that her rapist stole from her. The next union, instigated by you in the shower, told her that, despite the fact that she had been 'used' by another man, albeit against her will, you didn't hold that against her and still found her sexually attractive." Grabbing up the last few dishes, she prepared to go back to the sink. "Normally, I'd have counseled against that, but it worked this time. She is without a doubt the single strongest woman I've ever encountered."

Under my breath, I mumbled, "Me too." With Marita washing, the Dark Lady drying and me putting the dishes away, the chore took only about ten minutes.

During that time, the Dark Lady chose to broach another subject. Looking at Marita, she said, "I strongly recommend that you see a qualified OB/GYN for a full physical examination."

Marita stopped what she was washing, and turned to look directly at the Lady. "Why?"

Coughing slightly, she said, "Let's just call it preventative medicine."

Marita's gaze turned cold and hard as she replied, "I don't think so. Why?"

"Because it's a good idea. It's quite possible that he was carrying some form of VD which he easily could have passed on. It's less likely, but still quite possible, that he impregnated you. Finally, there's the real possibility, although considerably less likely, that he caused some damage which needs dealt with."

Turning back to the dishes, Marita washed in silence for several minutes. When she finally spoke, the question was directed at me. "What do you think? Should I go?"

Walking over behind her, I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her for a minute. "The decision is yours, hon. I can't make it for you, and wouldn't even if I could. The Dark Lady can't force you to go either. But, you've told me often enough how important family is to you, and that you hope to bear children someday. I'm familiar with some of the injuries that she's concerned about, and the more severe ones can put that hope in danger."

Leaning her head back against me, she closed her eyes for a minute. Finally she said, "I guess I know that, but there's still a problem. We can't exactly walk into any old OB/GYN office and say, 'Hi. I was raped by some psycho who really wanted my lover, who ultimately killed him. I need a checkup'."

The Lady almost smiled. "Actually, that's very close to what I'm suggesting."

We both turned our heads and said, at almost the same time, "Excuse me?"

"I happen to know a couple OB/GYNs…"

"Women?"

Marita had succeeded in interrupting the Lady's train of thought. She turned a slightly blank look to her and said, "Excuse me?"

Marita pulled away from me, standing as straight as a pole. "I asked if the doctors you were talking about were women. Because, after what happened to me, there's only one man I'm giving that kind of access to my body!"

The Dark Lady thought for a minute, and then started over. "All right. I know an OB/GYN, a woman, you can go to. When I was a therapist I sent several girls to her."

Marita scrubbed the last few dishes in silence, draining the sink and drying her hands before looking over at the Lady again. "Even if I accepted that, it still doesn't answer the special problems in this case."

The Lady smiled tightly. "This doctor works with the battered woman's underground. If I tell her the rapist has been dealt with, she won't ask questions."

Marita leaned back against me and closed her eyes for another minute. Finally she asked me in a small voice, "I need an opinion here, darling. Do you really think I should go?"

Looking down into her hair, I murmured, "I think it would be a good idea. At least we'd know."

Opening her eyes again, she stood up. "_Ándale_." Turning to look at me, her voice strengthened, "But only if you come with me."

Drawing her back to my arms, I said, "Never planned otherwise."

With that decision made, the Lady went to the guest room to finish getting ready for dinner, and Marita and I went to our room as well. After letting Builder know that he could head back to the living room, she sat in front of her vanity to touch up her hair and makeup while I ran a comb through my own hair. Grabbing the suit coat and tie from the closet, I put them on and watched as Marita finished her preparations. Pulling out a pair of heels that matched the skirt, she slipped them on in place of the flats she had been wearing. Standing up, she turned to me and asked, "How do I look?"

Knowing that a quick answer would undoubtedly cause trouble, I ran a practiced eye over her for a couple seconds. The outfit she had chosen concealed most of the bruising and cuts. The hose and heels combined to hide the rope burns on her ankles. Her left wrist sported a slim watch, while her right wrist had a thin, fashionable bracelet. Together they distracted the eye from the marks left on the wrists by the ropes. Her hair was done is such a way as to conceal the bruising on her neck. It gently fell down her head and lay along the nape of her neck, falling to a stop just at the swell of her breast. Her makeup was applied with such beauty as to border on artistry. She had managed to conceal the worst of the markings, and used tricks I have never understood to draw attention to her eyes, cheekbones and lips, and away from what little she had been unable to conceal. The earrings she had chosen were tiny golden hoops, peeking tantalizingly through the curls of her hair where it fell along the sides. The full affect was exciting, exotic, highly flattering and almost defiantly Latina.

Placing a hand on each shoulder, I pulled her to me and gently kissed her forehead. In what was probably the single worst Billy Crystal impersonation in recorded history, I said, "You look marvelous."

I watched her eyes flash with humor as she breathed out a small laugh. Picking up the handbag that went with the outfit, she draped her coat over her arm and led me out to meet the others by the door. Ishmael was wearing a suit of the deepest violet I had ever seen, with shirt and matching tie of a slightly lighter shade. Builder's suit was brilliant silver, with the shirt and tie being several shades darker. The only change made by the Dark Lady was to slip into a pair of heels that blended the colors of her blouse and skirt. Helping Marita on with her coat, we left for dinner.

Although dinner was delicious and quite enjoyable, it was also, thankfully, uneventful. After we returned home, shortly past 11, we retired to our separate rooms. Before we entered ours, the Dark Lady handed Marita a small scrap of paper and then followed Ishmael into the guest room. Glancing at the paper, Marita handed it to me and went into the room.

Written in the Lady's handwriting across the top was the name of the place, Women's Crisis Clinic, with its address right under it. Across the bottom she had written 11-1 4:45, beside which she had written the name Dr. Celina Mendoza. Apparently the Lady had taken the time to set up the appointment while we were getting ready to go. Shrugging, I set our alarm to wake us up at 11 and dropped the note beside it.

Stripping, Marita dumped her skirt and blouse in a pile beside the hamper before slipping into her night shirt. I dumped my suit in the same pile and went over to shut out the light. After crawling into bed beside her, it didn't take long for either of us to fall asleep. Although she did sleep better than she had last night, it was still restless for the both of us. She awoke several times pale and shaking. Each time, I woke to comfort and calm her, embracing her until she fell back asleep.

When the alarm went off, I found that we had once again fallen asleep in that comforting embrace. Carefully sliding out of bed, I turned off the alarm. As I began to rifle through my dresser and closet for something to wear, I heard Marita get out of bed.

Slipping between the closet and me, she pulled down a dark violet polo and a pair of navy blue pants, pressing the hangars into my hand as she turned to kiss me. After breaking the kiss, she gave me a little shove and told me to get in the shower.

After a quick shower, in which she joined me, we took care of the other morning necessities and dressed. She had chosen a strapless dress, ending maybe two inches above the knee, of a dark blue, nearly violet. It had barely visible striping of a dark maroon as well. As I made the bed and generally straightened up the room, she pulled on a pair of maroon, knee-high boots and began to do her hair and makeup.

By the time I had gathered the dry cleaning together, she was finished. Passing through the living room we said our good mornings to Builder, on the computer, and the Dark Lady and Ishmael, who were relaxing on the couch together while watching what appeared to be the original _Music Man_. Sitting at the island together, we enjoyed a quiet cup of coffee. Glancing at the clock, I let her know that it was a little past 2, and that we did have a stop to make before the appointment. Back in the room, I slipped the dry cleaning and hangars into the drop off bag while she transferred the contents of last night's handbag to a slim shoulder purse.

Draping the bag over one shoulder, I turned around in time to get hit in the face by a flying leather jacket. Silvery peals of laughter from the other side of the room informed me of what had happened. Dumping the bag on the floor, I tossed the jacket onto the bed and leapt toward the closet in mock fury. I caught her just as she tried to duck into the closet to hide. Flashing my hands across her body, knowing the most reactive spots, I tickled her unmercifully, as she laughingly attempted to break free. After a couple minutes she called a halt to the fun. Straightening her dress, she pulled on a maroon half-jacket, matching the striping on her dress, as I pulled on the leather jacket she had thrown at me. After I picked up the bag we left the apartment.

Walking to the cleaners, we stopped to pick up a couple dogs and coffees. After dropping of the dry cleaning, we hailed a cab since we had less than an hour to the appointment. After filling out the limited paperwork at the clinic, we waited for Marita to be called in back. At about ten of 5 a nurse stepped into the back doorway and called her. When I started to follow her back, the nurse stopped me. "Excuse me, sir? You can stay here in the waiting room."

Gently shaking her hand from my arm, I smiled. "I know I can, but I'm not going to."

Attempting to pass her again, she grabbed my arm harder. "Men are not allowed back there, sir. You are welcome to wait here for her." The tone of her voice clearly indicated that she was unafraid of me.

Seeing the panic mounting in Marita's eyes, and feeling the sudden tension in her grip on my other arm, it was all I could do to restrain my temper. After closing my eyes for a couple seconds, I looked at Marita. "Will you be all right here for a couple minutes?" Looking to the other side of the door, closest to the desk, I finished, "I'll be right over there with the nurse." When she nodded, I gently removed the nurse's hand from my arm and said, "If you'd come with me?"

After taking her over, I turned so I could still keep an eye on Marita. "Ma'am? When you were over there, trying to stop me from going back with the woman I love, did you happen to notice the bruising on her face and neck?" When she nodded, I continued, "Well, those are just the ones she's unable to hide. There are more, and worse, under her clothes and makeup. Since she got away from the bastard that did it to her, we've only been out of each other's sight long enough to use the john. She gets terrified if I even suggest that she stay in the living room while I do dishes. To tell the truth, the idea of even a temporary separation from her doesn't thrill me either."

The nurse drew herself up to her full height; an event that might have been more imposing if she had been a little taller than her apparent five foot even. "This place is perfectly safe, sir."

"Understood. But, she was at the courthouse when she was grabbed, working for her law firm. No place is safe, understand? More importantly, I am going back there at her express request, okay?"

Dr. Mendoza came out just as I finished that comment. Slim and attractive, probably in her early to mid fifties, she exuded an aura of trustworthiness and reliability, as well as a quiet but absolute authority. "Is there a problem here, Nurse Blackwood?"

The young nurse turned around with a slightly exasperated sigh. "Not exactly, Doctor. This gentleman refuses to remain in the waiting room during Ms. De Contego's exam."

The doctor turned to look at Marita, and then glanced at me. "Are you with the young lady then?" When I indicated that I was, she turned back to the nurse. "You were, of course, quite correct in stopping him, Ms. Blackwood. It so happens, in this case, that the young lady was referred to me by a therapist whose opinion I hold of high value. She told me something about the rather unique circumstances involved in this situation. More importantly, she has personally guaranteed me that this young man not only had nothing to do with the assault on that poor woman, but that he was nowhere near her when it happened; a circumstance that he is still upset about, apparently, and rectified shortly thereafter. Also, she heard the young lady make his presence during the exam her sole demand in scheduling it. For that reason I will allow him to be present."

Leading me back over to Marita, who clutched my arm in relief, Dr. Mendoza led us back to the exam room. During the brief trip, she looked through the paperwork and carried a running commentary. "Don't mind Nurse Blackwood, the young woman's a saint. She's even more protective of our girls than I am, which probably stems from the fact that she was once a victim herself. Ah, here we are." Opening the door, she ushered us into a comfortable room. Catching the look on our faces, she laughed. "I was involved in the design of this clinic. I decided that the ladies who came through here would be uncomfortable enough without us going out of our way to add to it."

Pointing to a set of shelves, she continued, "Now, my dear, if you'll be so good as to change, we can begin. I'm afraid I couldn't get away from those horrible hospital gowns, but it couldn't be helped." After Marita changed and handed me her folded clothing, the doctor helped her into the exam table. First on tap was a basic physical examination, with the doctor looking closely at some of the bruises that seemed to be worsening. I was only grateful that the majority of them seemed to be fading away. Next came the more invasive examination. Asking a series of delicately phrased questions about the rape, Dr. Mendoza conducted a quick but thorough and professional exam.

After the exam, but before releasing her from the bed, she took a series of blood draws. Ushering Marita into the bathroom, she also obtained a urine sample. She called Nurse Blackwood back to take the samples to the onsite lab for immediate testing. Finally letting Marita dress, she said, "If the two of you will wait here, we should have the results within an hour or so."

As she prepared to leave, I asked, "An hour? I admit I'm not as educated about them as you are, but I was under the impression that some of them, especially the HIV test, could take several days, even months, for results."

She smiled. "Normally, you'd be right. However, one of my techs is currently running a series of studies for which she obtained a federal grant. She noticed that infected blood, in most cases as soon as twenty-four hours after infection, has a series of reactions, unique to the infecting disease or virus. HIV, genital herpes, gonorrhea, any of the known VDs, can be spotted this way much earlier. Although she's still testing and proving the results, I've not caught her wrong in a single case." With that, she left.

Marita had finished dressing in silence. Once done, she brought the chair Dr. Mendoza had been using over and sat in it so she was facing me.

I knew from the look on her face that she was worried; probably more than she had yet been, and almost certainly more than she needed to be. Lowering her eyes to the floor, she asked, "What if the results are positive?"

I knew her well enough not to take her concern lightly. Leaning forward, I rested my forehead against hers and gently squeezed her hands in mine. "We'll deal with it, baby. Whatever happens, assuming anything does, we'll deal with it."

Tears standing in her eyes, her voice began to edge toward hysteria. "What if he made me so I can't bear children?" Lifting her eyes, they caught mine as horror began to fill them. "Oh God, what if I'm carrying his?"

Reaching a hand out, I pressed a finger to her lips. "Marita? Honey, I need you to listen to me for a minute." When she quieted down, I began again. "If you are pregnant, and if it is his, we'll decide what to do about it, together. Understand? Now, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I look forward to fathering your children; to having you give birth to one or more little miracles that are a result of our love. However, if something did happen and that's impossible, as unlikely as that is, we'll make decisions. In both cases, we do no good worrying about the possibilities until the tests come back." Lacing the fingers of my left hand in hers, I lifted them between us so that both rings were visible to her. "When I gave you that ring, and you slipped mine on, I already knew what the possibilities were. I had already run each and every possibility through my mind. Do you know what I decided?" Letting our hands fall back down, I used the thumb of my free hand to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes. "I decided that it didn't matter; that it still doesn't. As long as we're together, as long as we remain united, we can handle whatever comes." Releasing her hand, I gently took both sides of her head, guiding her face to look into my eyes, so that she could see the sincerity. "Whatever happens, whatever news the doctor brings through that door, we face it together. I'm going nowhere."

For a man who has always hated speaking a lot, and for whom talking about emotions was such a foreign concept as to be virtually impossible, I was doing a remarkably good job of saying and doing the right thing the past couple days. With a low cry, tears streaming down her face, Marita threw her arms around my neck and pulled me into an embrace. Holding the awkward position for several minutes, she finally broke it long enough to slip into my lap.

Slipping one arm around my shoulders, she draped her legs over the arm of the chair and rested her head on my shoulder. Wrapping one arm around her waist, I laced the fingers of my other hand with her free hand and rested them on her thigh. We were still seated in the position most of an hour later when Dr. Mendoza came back in. Hearing the door open, we both looked up. I could feel the tension which had so reluctantly fled from Marita's body flood right back in.

Pulling her chair a little ways apart from us, the doctor sat down and thumbed through the chart she had brought with her. After a minute she looked up, directly at Marita. "I don't know how you managed it, my dear, but you definitely dodged the bullet. Your blood tests came back clean; across the board."

Marita was almost disbelieving. "You mean…"

The doctor smiled. "Exactly. As far as VD is concerned, you didn't get so much as a pimple." Flipping to the next page, she continued. "The pregnancy test also came back negative." Catching the look in Marita's eye, she continued, "You are not carrying his child." Flipping to the last page on the chart she finished with a slight smile. "Some of the bruising, you commented, seems to be getting worse. That's fairly normal. It simply means that the bruise was deeper in those spots. Given how fast you seem to be healing from the other bruises, I would estimate another three days, at the outside, before they fade to where the others are now. Also, you don't have to worry about any interior scarring. There may be a little bit, but it's unlikely. The tearing I would have expected from a severe rape was there, but it was not as bad as it could have been." When she saw the look of relief the two of us exchanged, she nodded. "Yes. That means that, when the two of you decide it is time, you will be able to conceive and carry a child to term."

Ignoring the spontaneous kiss of pure joy and relief between myself and Marita, she waited by the door for us to get up. Leading us to the front, she shook our hands as we left.

The two of us spent the remainder of the day in an orgy of relief. Calling the apartment, I let the Lady know the good news and that we wouldn't be home until late. After hanging up the phone, I treated Marita to a nice early dinner. Walking around town, we went on a small shopping spree and ended up outside one of her favorite clubs. We hadn't been there since before everything started, so we popped in for a couple drinks and a lot of dancing.

All told, we didn't get back to the apartment until well after 1 in the morning. Upon entering, we made a beeline, as quietly as possible, to our bedroom. Setting the bags down near the closet door, I headed to the bathroom to take care of business and wash up. After a couple minutes, I headed out as Marita took it over. Getting ready for bed, I had just switched off the light, when I heard her clear her throat. Turning around, I realized that she was standing in the bathroom door, with that light still on. A second later I realized that she had also gotten ready for bed, but neglected to put anything on. A second after that, I realized what that meant. Going over to her, I reached around her to shut the light off. Picking her up in my arms, I carried her over to the bed and gently lay down with her. After an extended and serious kiss between us, the night vanished in passion.


	18. Chapter 2: Part 9

**Part 9: The Exploding Man **

The nightmares were not as easily disposed as the doubts. Although neither as frequent nor as severe, they still came. Once again, I found myself waking to comfort and reassure her several times. Waking for the day, I found Marita sprawled on her stomach. Her head was pillowed on my shoulder, with an arm crossing my chest and both legs entwined with mine. Rolling my head to stretch my neck, I glimpsed the alarm clock. Swearing under my breath, I gently shook her awake.

Eyes half-open, she mumbled something in Spanish. Brushing the hair away from her cheek, I apologized for waking her. "Sorry, _mi amante_, but it looks to be past time for waking up."

Levering her head onto my chest so she could see the alarm, she breathed, "_¡Cristo!_ Why didn't you set the alarm?"

Coughing lightly, I smiled. "It sort of slipped my mind. I was a little distracted when we went to bed."

I could tell she was blushing furiously from the playful way she slapped my chest. Resting her head back on my shoulder and curling against my side, she played with a little of my chest hair. "Still. I mean, I could see sleeping to maybe 1, but 3?"

Running my fingers lightly up her spine, I shrugged. "We were tired. You spent most of yesterday in various stages of worry and fear." I was determined not to admit that she wasn't the only one. "After the good news, we got quite a workout before sneaking back in after 1 in the morning."

Rolling her eyes, she untangled herself and rolled out of bed. Stopping at the bathroom door, she threw an arch look over her shoulder. "Well, are you coming?"

Smothering a laugh, I rolled out of bed and followed her in. "Yes, dear."

Afterward, I dressed in jeans and polo, straightening up while Marita slid into jeans and a plain blouse. After helping me make the bed, I sat on the edge of it and watched while she tied back her hair and applied a little makeup.

The Dark Lady was alone in the room when we entered. Looking up from her book, she flashed a smile. "I was beginning to wonder if you two planned on coming out at all today."

Playfully slapping the back of my head, Marita said, "You can thank Einstein for that." Skipping out of range before I could swat her butt, she laughed. "Something appears to have distracted him last night, and he forgot to set the alarm."

Throwing her an arch look, the Lady said, "I wonder what could have possibly distracted him that much." When Marita started blushing, the Lady laughed. "There should still be some coffee left. I sent Ishmael and Builder down to do our laundry and pick up something for dinner tonight."

Marita looked at me as she sat. "Would you mind just bringing me a cup of tea?"

"No problem. You may want to call your office and give them some sort of excuse for where you've been." By the time I had made her tea, and had fixed myself a strong cup of Irish coffee, she had completed the call and was draped across the chair half asleep. When I handed her the tea, she shifted long enough for me to sit down.

Reclining back in the chair, I draped an arm around her where she lay against my chest. After maybe half an hour, I almost dropped my cup when I remembered what I had left undone when she went missing. Looking at me with alarm, Marita said, "What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Explaining what had happened, I headed back to my work computer, Marita laughing as she followed, and powered it up. Forty minutes later I had found the supplier they needed. Contacting both parties, I arranged the deal. After disconnecting from the supplier, I apologized profusely to my client. Explaining that my fiancée had been seriously injured in a car wreck, I waved my regular fee and offered my services, one time only, for half price if they needed another deal arranged.

"That's what you do back here?"

I had almost forgotten that she was here with me. Shutting down the computer and getting up, I grunted, "Pretty much."

Back in the living room, Builder and Ishmael had returned while I was working, and the Lady was fixing dinner. The rest of the evening was mostly uneventful. After dinner, we cleaned up and talked in the living room. At first the discussion was mostly random ad bounced from the weather to sports and politics.

I was finally able to steer the conversation in the direction I was most interested in, and we started discussing the Organization. Looking down where Marita was relaxing in my arms, absently playing with my ring, I cleared my throat. When she glanced up, I said, "Hon, I really hate to bring up bad memories, but, when I found you, you said Dan told you he was going somewhere. Can you remember where he said he was going?"

Her eyes grew distant for a minute as she searched her memory. Finally she nodded. "I don't know where, exactly, but he told me something about having been recalled to headquarters. Why?"

"Because I think we may know where he is." Gently nudging her to let me up, I went to the nearby computer. Opening the drawer, I pulled out the phone and card. Pulling up a browser on the computer, I searched through the phone for the listing I remembered. Finding the number for Headquarters, I typed it into a reverse phone number search on the internet. Comparing the address that it coughed up with the card, I was relieved to find them identical. Turning off the phone and putting both it and the card back in the drawer, I pulled up a map and input the address.

When the map popped up the location, I couldn't contain a grin. "All right. We know where he is. What we don't know is how to get to him."

Marita had followed me over. "What do you mean?"

Getting up from the computer, leaving the map up, we went back to the chair and seated ourselves. "It's actually fairly simple. You told us that he mentioned something about Headquarters. One of the numbers in his phone was under that heading. Keying that number into a search gave me an address. Comparing that address to the one on the card was the final verification. Keying it into the map search, I discovered it to be in the main building at Kirby Plaza."

The Lady kept an eye on me from her reclined position beside her husband. "What did you have in mind?"

Shrugging, I answered with almost complete honesty. "I thought we'd go in, kill Danny boy and, shall we say, explain the realities to his bosses."

Quirking an eyebrow at me, Ishmael asked, "Explain?"

Shrugging, I threw him a half grin and shifted position. The Lady glanced at her watch and commented, "Whatever it is we decide, I think it should be decided tomorrow. It's nearly midnight."

Finishing our drinks, Marita and I went to the bedroom. Getting ready for bed, I wrapped my arms around her waist and whispered in her era, "Are you tired yet?"

"Not really. Why?"

Loosening my grip, I let my hands start exploring. "I'll scrub your back if you'll do mine." After the shower, I set the alarm and joined her in bed, where we learned that neither of us were quite finished. After we finally went to sleep, it was a repeat of the previous nights. Although the nightmares continued to decrease in frequency and intensity, they still came.

Waking up to the alarm, around 9, we went through the typical morning routine, making it into the living room around 10. With her sitting at the island, drinking coffee and talking about nothing, I fixed us a quick breakfast. After eating and cleaning up, we went to the living room and joined the other three.

After relaxing into the chair, I looked around. "Whatever else we decide to do today, I want out of this apartment."

Shifting position next to his wife, Ishmael said, "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. With a couple exceptions, we've been stuck in this place for better than a week, longer than that even since the group of us just had a bit of fun."

The Lady lifted an eyebrow in skepticism at the idea. 'Has it slipped your mind that Daniel is still out there, or that our world may be coming to an end in the next few days?"

Looking at her in curiosity, I asked, "Have you seen something then?"

Shrugging uncomfortably, she admitted, "Not precisely. I've seen that it will boil down to a single decision made by the Brother of Flight. The question before him is of love; does he love power more than he loves his own flesh and blood, the Brother of Power?"

"So our part at the end will still be mostly peripheral?"

"So it would seem. What are you getting at?"

Shrugging, I explained. "I figured we could discuss how best to get to Dan while we were out, but we could have fun too. Go shopping, go to a decent restaurant for dinner, and maybe catch a movie or show. Frankly, I think we've been closed up long enough.

Less than an hour later, shortly after noon, we were seated at a small deli down the street. Sketching in our rough plans for getting into the Kirby Plaza building, we finished our lunch. The rest of the day was spent interspersing business with pleasure. Through the hours spent shopping, as well as window shopping, we made and reviewed the plans. After dinner at a new Italian spot, we went to see an off-Broadway production of _Cats_.

As we were leaving the theatre, I turned on my phone. It started ringing before I could replace it in my suit coat. Glancing at the screen, I saw that my caller was blocking both his name and his number. Flipping it open, I said, "Hello?"

A dry, cynical voice which I had cause to remember came over the line. "Mr. Kemp?"

"Yes."

"Let's not fool around. You know who and what I am, and I have the same information about you. Since you turned on my phone yesterday, I assume you know where I am, which means that little cunt-whore…"

Interrupting in strangled fury, I said, "Listen, you filthy sack of shit, there's nothing I look forward to with as much pleasure as ridding you of your worthless life. Right now I just want to kill you and move on with my life. Don't make me change my mind."

"Get off it. Christ, man, I've seen the video. She was practically begging for it. Shit, she started slinging it as soon as he mounted her. The little slut couldn't wait to be taken like an animal by a real man."

"Keep pushing, bastard, just keep pushing. What the fuck do you want?"

Laughing, he explained. "Fine. The point of this little contact is that, thanks to her blabbing mouth, my phone and, doubtless, the ever helpful internet, you know where I'm at."

"And if I do?"

"Be here tomorrow, 5 pm sharp. Flash the card you and your little bitch took from me to the guy guarding the doors. Tell him that Thompson wants to talk to you. Take the skeleton key along. I know you used it on your little murder raid at the safe house- which, by the way, didn't impress my bosses- so I know that you know how to use it. What isn't obvious is that its primary use is as an elevator key. Once in the elevator, turn the key and you'll be taken directly to my floor, uninterrupted. A small group of my friends and fellow agents will be waiting for you.

"If you do this, you have my word that the Organization will leave sweet little Marita alone. If, however, you screw us over, I will make it my sacred task to capture you, but only after you've been forced to watch everyone even tangentially associated with you die as horrible a death as I can manufacture."

"You'll forgive me if I suggest that I find your word to be of less value than used toilet paper, and the idea that you even recognize honor completely laughable. However, that being said, you don't seem to have left me much choice."

"Glad you see it that way. Tomorrow, 5 sharp." After he disconnected, I stood there staring at the phone for several minutes. Finally replacing it in my suit coat, I looked into the distance in cold fury, hands clenched in my pockets.

Marita came up to me, linking her arm through mine, and said, "Who was it, baby?"

Placing the opposite hand on her arm, I explained the phone call to them as we walked back to the apartment. When I finished, we were silent during the remainder of the walk. After I let us in, we sat in our regular seats.

From the sofa, Ishmael asked, "So, what do you plan to do?"

"Honestly? I don't have a clue."

Marita looked up from where she was reclining on my chest. "You're not surrendering, are you?"

Shrugging uncomfortably, I said, "If I thought he could be trusted, I might consider it." Running a finger down her throat, I traced on of the last of her fading bruises. "But, he's already proven himself to have no honor. Coming after me is one thing. It's business, something I can understand. Coming after someone I love, torturing and violating them for amusement, simply to get to me through them though? No. I can't understand that, I won't forgive it and will most certainly exact some sort of revenge for it.

"Anyway, assuming he honored his word and left you alone, that still leaves the Lady, Builder and Ishmael." Looking at them, I smiled a little. "The Organization definitely is going to want to grab you three."

The Lady looked closely at me. "You are probably correct. The question now becomes what you intend to do. What you've just said indicates that you've decided to stay away from him, but I sense that isn't quite right."

"Honestly? I haven't decided. Trying to stay away from him, to avoid him, would just cause more problems. I don't have a clue about what to do."

Marita looked at the clock and stood from the chair. Reaching down a hand, she pulled me to my feet. "Since it's a little past midnight now, I think the final order of business for the night should be to go to bed." Pushing me toward the bedroom, she looked back at the Lady. "We'll see you three around noon."

After getting into bed, Marita took my hand under the covers. "What's really bothering you, Lucius?"

Gripping her hand as if it were a lifeline, I swallowed and admitted, "I'm scared. Not for myself, but for you and your family. He said some pretty brutal stuff, and if I don't turn myself in people start dying."

"What do you mean?"

"He told me point blank. Either I'm there or he goes and starts to kill the people I care about, which are pretty much limited to you and your family." Finally I faced the truth. With tears standing in my eyes, I looked at her. "I nearly lost you once, and I thought it would kill me. If they got to you and I did lose you, I think it would."

Pulling me over to her, she gave me a fierce kiss and laid my head on her breast, murmuring, "I'm not going anywhere." The tears I had been trying to contain broke through, and I wept like a broken-hearted child until I fell asleep.

When the alarm woke us up, I found that Marita had shifted us so that we were now spooned, with her behind and holding me. Whispering into my ear, she asked, "Better now?"

"Much. Thanks." Getting out of bed, I shut down the alarm and said, "How about you? Any problems?"

Crawling out of bed, she began to strip off her nightshirt. "A couple nightmares. Nothing major." Dropping the shirt to the floor, she stepped over to me and kissed me. "I wasn't the one that needed comforting last night. Thank you for letting me." Giving my hand a squeeze, she ran her hand along my shorts as she turned to the bathroom. "Ready for a shower?"

After the shower, we dressed casually and cleaned up the room. As she did her hair and makeup, I straightened up the bed and bagged up the laundry. As we left the room, I saw that it was still about 11:30. In the living room Builder was at the computer while the Dark Lady reclined against her husband, who was half asleep on the couch. After pouring coffee, we took our usual seat.

After maybe another ten of fifteen minutes, the Lady looked at me. "Have you made your decision?"

With a slight smile, and a small gesture of my hand, I said, "Yes and no. The Shield Maiden and I have a couple errands to run, and we thought we'd grab some lunch while we were out. It'll probably take a couple hours. During that time I hope to get a better idea of what to do."

Ishmael was apparently paying better attention than it seemed. "You'll forgive me if I say that seems an extremely foolish thing to do. You'd be better off staying here where it's safe."

I couldn't believe what I had just heard. "Safe? The Shield Maiden was grabbed from work, in a damned court house of all places, then beaten and violated. God alone knows what they'd have done to her had we not found and rescued her. During that little job we were all injured in one way or another. I just got told that I either turn myself in or this Organization will do God knows what to me and those I care about.

"Oh, and in case you've forgotten, we have to pray that a damned politician has the balls to do the right thing, once in his life, or the entire city gets blown clear to hell."

Pausing to catch my breath, and my temper, I continued. "What I'm trying to say is that he gave me until 5 to be there. Although I have no doubt that he'll have me followed, I'm reasonably safe until that time. So, I'm going to do the chores that should have been done yesterday. After we get back, the five of us can discuss what I've decided.

After dropping off our laundry at Cho's, where they washed it for us, Marita and I ate at the deli down the street. Since it was close to 3 by the time we were finished, we stopped to vote before going back home.

There was a heavy set black woman down the table from us who asked permission to take her son in with her, so that he could see, "Democracy in action." Snorting under my breath, I finished signing in, and the two of us took our place in line.

After voting, we picked up our dry cleaning and our laundry and went home. It was nearly 4 by the time we let ourselves in. Builder was still on the computer. Ishmael was on the sofa, watching the coverage of the election. The Lady sat beside him, engrossed in her book.

Marita and I vanished into our bedroom to put away the clothing. Then we prepared a fairly simple dinner, setting the table shortly after the deadline of 5 had passed.

After we were seated, and had begun eating, the Dark Lady looked closely at me. "What have you decided?"

Swallowing a drink, I said, "Either alone or with your assistance, I'm going to Kirby Plaza tomorrow, to put an end to this."

Marita laid her hand on my arm. "Not alone."

Ishmael pushed back his emptied plate. Leaning back, he glanced at the Lady and then back at me. "All right, we'll all go. What's the plan?"

During the rest of dinner, and back in the living room over the muted election results, we created and altered a plan. The only halt in our conversation came when the station called the election. The talking head running the studio coverage peered closely at his notes and began speaking even as we turned the volume back on. "Nathan Petrelli, despite tailing his chief opponent for his seat by up to three points in the polls, has achieved a stunning, landslide, victory. By a vote of sixty-four percent, Mr. Petrelli has won the congressional election."

We turned the television off as he turned and began to engage another talking head in conversation. Scratching the back of my neck, I said, "Well, that, as they say, is that. We're one step closer to Armageddon." With that comment, we launched back into tailoring the plan we were shaping. Around midnight or a little before we all headed for bed, after agreeing to be ready to leave no later than 3 pm.

Waking to the alarm at 10, Marita and I took a long and relaxing shower. After drying each other off, we straightened up the room and made the bed before getting dressed.

After dressing, I looked with some surprise at Marita's less conservative choice of clothing. I had chosen a dark green turtleneck sweater, somewhat loose around the throat, coupling that with a pair of dark navy slacks and black Sketchers. Marita, on the other hand, had apparently decided to stay stripped down for action. She had slipped into a pair of low riding, hip hugging leather pants of a dark violet, and a pair of high healed, scarlet calf boots. As I watched, she pulled a deep violet leather halter top into place.

After slipping it on, she spent a few brief seconds adjusting the fit. Although it fit snug enough to prevent her from revealing more than she wanted, it was a daring top. It wrapped around the back and part way across the breasts. There was a small band of leather, directly under the breast, no more than three inches thick, that completely wrapped around the chest. That piece stretched up into twin bands, also stretching from the thicker wrapped piece, which crossed just above the breasts and became a loop to go around her neck. Although well designed, and of a secure fit, it left a generous amount of cleavage exposed. Coupled with the wolf's head pendant, the effect was extremely sexy, stepping just short of trashy- a line she occasionally enjoyed flirting with.

As she busied herself at her vanity, I pulled my red-brown leather duster, and her scarlet trench coat, out of the closet. When she was finished, I draped them over my arm and walked with her into the living room, where the others were already waiting.

Builder, as usual seated at the computer, was wearing a simple, light blue-grey t-shirt with blue jeans and tennis shoes. Ishmael, seated in his regular spot on the sofa, wore an extremely dark blue, bordering on black, pullover sweater over a dress shirt, paired with black slacks and loafers. The Dark Lady, reclining against his side, wore a blue turtleneck, nearly as dark as her hair, that was tight enough for me to briefly question exactly how she had pulled it on. She coupled this with a pair of dark green slacks and black boots.

Letting Marita sit down, I slipped into the kitchen to pour coffee. Back in the living room, silence ruled as we each were left to our thoughts. The only regular sound was the tapping of the keyboard as Builder worked at the computer.

Around 1, the Dark Lady fixed a quick lunch that we ate where we were sitting. After another hour had passed, we began our preparations. Since we had decided that Marita and I would remain invisible until we made it past security, the two of us carried the weapons and equipment, with the exception of the PDAs.

Shrugging into my coat, I helped Marita pull hers on as the other three did the same. Builder slipped into a standard bomber jacket. Ishmael pulled on a leather jacket slightly darker than mine as the Lady slid into a sleek black leather jacket.

Turning to go, I realized that Marita had fastened the fighting gloves into place, sliding the cuff and a portion of the lower arm of her trench coat inside the gloves. With a savage grin, she returned my look. "I don't want to waste time putting them on later. Anyway, I don't think it likely that the police will fail to check for prints after what we do there."

Ceding the point, I stepped back into the bedroom long enough to grab a pair of black leather gloves from the closet. Back out at the apartment door, I noticed that the other three were also tugging on gloves. When we finally were ready to go, a little after 3, I took Marita's hand and faded us into invisibility as Builder opened the door to let us out.

The walk took long enough that I was able to coach Marita through the finer points of moving in my peculiar form of invisibility. The first half of the lengthy trip brought gradual improvement, although it was occasionally painful. By the time we reached the building, she was competent.

As planned, the two of us followed Ishmael through the metal detector inside the door. When the alarm went off, we stepped aside as they sent him back through. When it failed to go off this time, they waved the detection wands over him. Unable to find anything, they reluctantly waved him past, where he waited for the Dark Lady and Builder. As arranged, I tapped his elbow when Marita and I joined him. Seconds later, they joined us and we moved to the next obstacle.

A young man was standing in front of the rear entrance. As we approached, he held up his hand. "Sorry. I'm going to need to see ID."

Digging in his jacket, Ishmael pulled out his wallet and flipped it open, revealing the special Organization ID we had liberated from Daniel. "Hope this covers it son, we have an appointment with Mr. Linderman."

Glancing at the card, the guard's face paled slightly. "Absolutely, sir." Standing aside, he let them pass, with Marita and I trailing invisibly along.

Back by the elevators, we saw a young black man standing anxiously beside an attractive blonde in a tan jacket. They were apparently in conversation with a middle aged gentleman wearing what appeared to be horn rimmed glasses, and a slightly overweight man with dark hair. After a brief conversation, the four of them slipped into the elevator and vanished from sight as the doors closed. However, the dark haired man seemed to sense my presence. As the doors closed, he looked directly at me.

Several minutes later we were in another elevator. As Builder use the key, I flipped the light and made Marita and myself visible. As the elevator sped along, we handed out the weapons and communicators. When the elevator doors opened, we found ourselves staring into an empty hall, with a directory on the wall. Although it contained basic descriptions of what seemed nearly a hundred offices, it didn't seem to show where Dan could be found.

Stopping for a second, I came to a quick decision. "Listen, it's going to take all night to search this place normally. Dark Lady, can you track him?"

Closing her eyes for a minute, she shook her head. "I can tell that he's here, somewhere in the back half of this floor, but that's it."

'Builder, is there anything you can do?"

"Sorry. I don't have anything to work with, and no idea what to do if I did."

"Damn! I was afraid of that. All right, I think the only choice is for us to split up."

Ishmael's face told me that he was having trouble believing what he had just heard. "Excuse me?"

I shrugged. "I'm not really happy with it, but I don't see much choice. If we were to try and search this place as a single group, it would take forever. At least, if we split into two groups, there's a chance of finding him before dawn."

The Lady stared intently at me for several minutes before nodding her agreement. As the three of them turned to head the opposite way, I said, "Call if you find him. I don't much care who or how, so long as he dies."

After they left, Marita and I began to head down our hall. The first door we tried was locked, and I belatedly remembered that Builder had the key. After a quick discussion with my fiancée, I took the handle with one hand and laid the other along the frame. Emitting the narrowest and hottest beam I could manage, I slid it down the frame until it melted through the latch. Opening the door, we discovered the office to be empty.

Moving down through the halls, the routine became dangerously monotonous. Break in, look around, leave and repeat with the next door. Ten, twenty, forty or more doors; eventually we lost count. After a seemingly endless number of doors and God alone knows how much time, every light in the hall went out. Before the crucial seconds I needed for my ability to automatically adjust for the lack of light, they came back on.

Looking around in confusion, I found that I had been somehow transported to an emptied office. Marita was missing, but Daniel stood off to one side, leaning casually against a wall. With a mocking smile on his face and in his voice, he said, "I'm somewhat disappointed in you, Lucius. I had hoped for something with a little more originality or, I don't know, panache from you. Instead, you chose the tired old 'kill him at work' ploy."

Shrugging uncomfortably, I replied, "Sorry. I didn't really have time for anything elaborate. I'll try and do better next time."

"There won't be a next time."

"If you insist." With a savage grin, I whipped out the .45 and pumped off three rounds at his chest. The only problem was that, by the time the bullets crossed the distance, he was no longer there. Marita was.

I watched in stunned horror as her body jerked back with the trio of impacts. Three spots on her chest exploded into bloody blossoms. Looking down, she gaped at the wounds and collapsed. She had only enough time to look back at me in horror and mouth, "Why?"

Even as she collapsed to the floor, I was in motion. Throwing the gun aside, I ran to her and caught her just as she hit the floor. Cradling her head in my lap, I broke into tears. Refusing to believe that she had died, I took my knife and sliced off her halter top to expose the wounds. Cutting part of my duster into strips and bandages, I used the sleeves to wipe around the wounds. Bandaging her up consumed my attention.

After the bandages were in place, I began to gently massage her chest, praying that the silent heart would begin again to pound. I pressed my mouth to hers in a futile attempt to breathe life into her stilled lungs. Again and again I tried, endlessly repeating the futile, and increasingly desperate, attempts to bring her back. Finally, in exhausted surrender, I closed her eyes and kissed her lips in a final farewell.

Cradling her head in my lap, I closed my eyes and remembered the first time we met; the grace and fire she had always displayed on the dance floor. I recalled the toss of her head, the sparkle in her eyes, and the lilt in her voice; the nearly violent eroticism as well as the quiet passion of our intimate moments; the pleasure she received when I was able to give her even the smallest gifts, as well as the greater joy she took in being able to give me gifts; the feeling of our bodies as we lay together, skin on skin. All those moments that had come and gone, brief and fleeting and never to come again. Still weeping in broken hearted despair, I looked down into her face. She had brought life, love and happiness into the life of a man who had never before known them, and I repaid her priceless gift with death.

Suddenly a mocking voice interrupted my grief. "You really should have turned yourself in, you know. She'd probably still be alive if you had."

Looking up, I saw, through tear and grief bleared eyes, Daniel in front of me. Looking back down at Marita, I muttered, "Just kill me."

That mocking laugh reappeared. "No, I don't think so." I felt him move over to me, standing over and looking down. "It really serves you right, you know. You both got what you deserved. After all, you did brutally murder my friend and partner. Now your friend and lover lies dead, and at your own hand. I call that irony, and figure it makes us roughly even."

Turning my eyes to him, I screamed out, "JUST FUCKING KILL ME!!!"

Laughing, he began to respond. Suddenly, he doubled over as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. His head shot up, as if someone had grabbed him by the throat, and bounced off the air behind him. As his eyes glazed, and he sagged to one knee, the office around us faded away, to be replaced by the hall from which I thought I had been transported.

Inconceivably, Marita was alive and well, and beating the crap out of Dan. In stunned and horrified disbelief, I looked into my lap and watched her dead body fade into nothingness. Looking back up, I watched as, shrieking curses all the while, she used her self defense training, as well are the strength she had gained from her years spent dancing, to completely dismantle him.

Every time she hit him, she left behind severely bruised or broken skin. Every time she kicked him, her heels left deep and jagged wounds. He'd block a slashing blow from her hand, only to find himself pierced by those lethal heels when she whipped around with a kick. If he tried to block the kick, she'd snap out a hand to lay him open.

Apparently tiring of playing with him, Marita dropped back for a brief second. Dipping her hand inside her trench coat, she whipped out the knife. With the same motion, she stepped back inside his guard and jammed the blade to the hilt in his crotch, and then dropped back out. When his hands dropped to his crotch in an attempt to pull out the knife, she shattered both of his shoulders with a pair of well placed kicks.

As he sank to his knees, shrieking in agony, she grasped him by the throat and pulled him upright. Grasping the haft of the knife, she twisted and wiggled it as she withdrew it, snarling as his screams grew shriller and more pain filled. Wiping the blade on his shirt and replacing it in her coat, she growled something inaudible in his ear. Thrusting him back against the wall, she used that force to spin full circle. Clenching her fist as she spun, she used the impetus of the movement to add force to her punch as she smashed him in the face.

His nose vanished in an explosion of blood. I watched in awe as the force of the blow caused the front of his skull to partially cave, flattening his face. His shrieks of agony were abruptly silenced as the gloves performed their deadly task. Even as his nose caved, the blades released from their sheaths on either side of her fist. In the flash of a second, they slid through his eyes into his brain. As she finished her blow the blades retracted. The thread of life severed, he collapsed to the floor.

Turning her back on his dead or dying body, she walked over to me. Helping me to my feet, she held me tightly while I clasped her to me as a drowning man would a life preserver. After several minutes, she released me with a brief, passionate kiss. Smiling sadly, she said, "Now you know."

Reaching up, she removed the headset from me and slid it into place. Keying the mike, she said, "Dan has been located and dealt with." Cocking her head slightly, apparently listening to someone on the other end, she said, "Really? He's dead?" Listening for another minute, she laughed. "Both? Good. We'll meet you out front."

With another quick kiss, she grabbed my hand. "They found Thompson in what looked like a hospital room. Someone had shot him two or three times. They also heard a security radio call claiming that they'd found Mr. Linderman, also dead." Hugging me briefly before practically ripping my hand off as she took off running, she said, "If we can get out of here, we're free."

Following her as she dragged my hand through the halls at a dead run, we reached the elevators in short order. Unfortunately, they were locked in place. Breaking open the door, we ran down the stairs and through the abandoned lobby. Emerging through the front doors, we found that the Plaza, unlike the building, was far from abandoned.

A quick survey showed maybe a dozen or so people scattered around. Nearby was the man in horn rimmed glasses that I had spotted earlier. A little further away was a man, who appeared to be of Hindi origin, trying to bandage the slightly overweight man who I had seen board the elevator with Mr. Horn Rims. A little further around the square, I found the blond woman and black man that had been on the elevator as well. The man had apparently been injured, because he stood with one arm pressed tightly to his side, and the other draped over the blonde's shoulder. With them were two children; a girl of maybe ten years, and a black boy, roughly the same age, who looked familiar for some reason. In the center, near the fountain, stood a young man in a white shirt. I vaguely recognized him from an old press conference as Nathan Petrelli's brother, Peter. What was odd wasn't that he was standing there, but that his hands were glowing an extremely bright white and yellow. His face as he held the hands against his chest clearly indicated that something was wrong.

Turning, he glanced near me and said, "Do it."

Turning slightly, I saw a young blonde girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, holding a gun in her badly shaking hand. As she tried, through tear filled eyes, to steady it, Peter emphasized what he was saying. "Do it! You're the only one, Claire."

Claire tried to steady the gun, and looked over the barrel, which was shaking uncontrollably, and cried out, "Tell me there's another way. Please!"

Peter started to turn back around, holding up his hands as if in proof. "Shoot me! There is no other way."

As she raised the gun again, attempting to get it steadied, a sound as of rushing wind came in. Suddenly, the recently elected Nathan Petrelli swooped onto the pavement between them. Raising one hand to Claire, he said, so softly I could barely make it out, "Yes, there is, Claire."

Pushing the barrel to point at the ground, he said, "The future isn't written in stone."

Peter looked at his brother in desperation, "I took his power, Nathan." As they turned to face each other, he continued, "I can't control it. I can't do anything."

"I'm not leaving you, Peter." Walking over to his brother, who was getting brighter with every moment, he said, "There's another way to end this, and you know it."

In a broken voice, Peter said, "I can't let you die."

"And I can't let everyone else." Turning to face the girl they'd identified as Claire, he said, "You saved the cheerleader, so that we could save the world."

As they stepped into an embrace, Peter said, "I love you, Nathan."

"I love you too."

At that moment I was briefly distracted by the arrival of the rest of our little group. "Lady, Ishmael, Builder. You missed the drama."

Enigmatically, she said, "Call me Angel. No, I think it's just about to start."

"Angel?"

"It's my name. Watch."

Turning back around, I watched as Nathan and Peter launched into the dark and cloudy sky. Seconds passed in silence. Suddenly, the sky was torn apart with a silent explosion. The Plaza was briefly lit as if it were midday by a new sun that thrust the clouds aside, and reflected on each face that was turned up to it.

As it faded away, Mr. Horn Rims was approached us, with an arm draped over the girl, Claire. Briefly he looked at me before saying, "The police will be here soon. I don't know what you're doing here, but you may want to be gone when they show up."

Taking his advice, we began to walk back to our apartment. During the walk, I looked at the Dark Lady and said, "Would you care to explain?"

Smiling lightly, she said, "The codes by which you've known us, and by which we've known you, for the past couple months served a dual purpose. They were, as my beloved told you, the ways in which I saw each of us in my visions. However, the other purpose they served was safety. Since we only used the codes, nobody had a chance to overhear our proper names and inform the Organization."

"So, why'd you just tell me your name was Angel?"

"Because it is. The codes aren't needed, because the event has happened, and the Organization is no longer a problem."

As we walked back to the apartment, laughing in relief that the apocalypse had been avoided, we came to know each other properly. I learned that the woman I had known as the Dark Lady was actually named Angel Callaghan. Her husband, hitherto known only as Ishmael, was Ishmael Callaghan. Builder's true name was Dustin Sommer. I introduced myself, Lucius Kemp, and my fiancée, Marita De Contego. As the sirens sounded, we walked home.


	19. Epilogue

**New Beginnings**

It was late evening, between 9 and 10 anyway, on the last day of 2006. I stood beside Ishmael and Dustin, staring into the distance. Despite, or perhaps due to, my unusually agitated nerves, I found myself remembering all that had happened since the events at Kirby Plaza.

Official reports of what had happened were all carefully sanitized. I suspect the facts are only truly known to those of us who were there. According to those reports, an unknown murderer broke into the building and massacred Mr. Linderman, Mr. Thompson, and an unidentified third victim. It turned out that the slightly overweight gentleman, who had been with the man in the horn rimmed glasses, was a suspended Los Angeles police officer named Matt Parkman. According to the newspapers he was critically injured while heroically attempting to apprehend the murderer. They also listed one D.L. Hawkins, apparently an escaped convict, as also injured in the clash. The explosion in the sky was explained as nothing more than a flare fired by a witness in an attempt to gain attention to what was occurring.

The Hindi gentleman was making headlines of his own. His name turned out to be Mohinder Suresh, son of Dr. Chandra Suresh. He was traveling around the country attempting to persuade everyone that people such as myself existed and were growing in number. Although he was using some of his own research, he was also basing much of his claim on the research conducted by his father, some of which I found in a copy of the book _Activating Evolution_.

Luckily, Professor Suresh was meeting with limited success. People had enough trouble accepting those of different races, religions, genders and sexual preferences. If they were suddenly forced to face the fact that people with what could only be termed super powers existed, the result would not be pretty. Hell, during World War II just being of Japanese descent was enough to place you in what was euphemistically termed a "Relocation Facility." The best people like me could hope for would be to wind up locked on a deserted island somewhere so that we could be studied and, most probably, exterminated.

Angela Petrelli, the well known mother to both Nathan and Peter Petrelli, was making headlines of her own, along with her daughter-in-law, Heidi Petrelli. Neither of the Petrelli brothers had been heard from since that day in the Plaza. Although I privately suspect that they're both dead, which opinion is shared by Marita, Ishmael and Dustin, Angel has indicated that she isn't so certain. Given that Nathan Petrelli was capable of unaided flight, and Peter was apparently a walking bomb, I can understand her hesitation.

A couple of weeks previously, Marita and I had the three of them over for dinner. Over the course of the evening, they filled us in on the news that had recently been received. First of all, they proudly informed us that Dustin had been accepted into MIT and would be starting in the fall semester of 2007. Apparently his intelligence and skill with electronics was enough to overcome his age. The other news they brought was at least as exciting. During the course of the time they had spent at the apartment, apparently one of their physical unions worked, because Angel was around two months pregnant.

Marita's nightmares had ceased after she killed Daniel. Angel believes that the fight, and his death, excised the last of the demons that kept bringing them back. Unfortunately, my nightmares were just beginning. For nearly a month after the events unfolded, I was tormented by recurring nightmares based around the horrifying fear that he had forced me to experience. Marita, without even the slightest hesitation, became comforter for me just as I had been for her.

Suddenly, music interrupted my reverie. With a slight grin, I dropped my gaze and watched Marita walking purposefully toward me. Her white dress, perfectly setting off the brown tones of her flawless skin, shimmered and glowed as light reflected off the varied shades of white as well as the intricately patterned pearls with each deliberate step. Short, off the shoulder sleeves, tight against her flesh, flowed down into a low cut bodice. Below the bodice, the dress tightened across her midriff, hugging her hips just before it suddenly exploded into a full and flowing skirt, ending just below her ankles.

A gossamer veil flowed down her face, ending just below her chin. It was secured into place with an intricately worked series of thin golden chains that were woven through her luxurious brown hair. When she reached me, we turned toward the front and faced the minister.

A pleasant, elderly gentleman, the minister spoke for a time on love and marriage. Shortly before midnight he walked us through the I Do's. After exchanging the rings, we reached the end. As Sunday, the 31st of December, 2006 became Monday, January 1st, 2007, I carefully lifted her veil. Laying it gently along the top and back of her head, I stared for just a second into her glorious auburn eyes, with just the tiniest flecks of gold, before losing myself in her kiss.

Reluctantly, we broke the kiss and turned to face our family and friends. As they stood to their feet, applauding and cheering, I reflected. Later, of course, we would have the reception. After that we would have an entire day to ourselves, most of which would be spent preparing for our honeymoon, on which we would embark early tomorrow morning.

The primary wedding gift from Ishmael and Angel, it would take most of a month. Tomorrow we would fly to Sioux City, where we would drive for maybe half an hour out of the city, until we reached my birthplace. Once there, we would spend a couple of days walking through my past. Afterward we would be flown to her birthplace of Pachuca De Soto, in Hidalgo, Mexico. Once there, we would spend a couple more days looking through her past. Once done with that, we would be taken for a two week romantic honeymoon to Spain.

All of that, however, was still in the future. What mattered to me, at that moment, was that I was walking toward that future, arm in arm beside the woman who was my friend, my lover, my soul-mate, my compatriot, and now my wife.

With a new beginning, life was good.


End file.
